


the basic elements are given back to the ocean

by a_big_apple



Series: Benevolence [6]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic, Food, Found Family, Gaslighting, Gen, M/M, Memory Related, Mystery, Recipes, TAZ Big Bang 2018, The Adventure Bang 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 02:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_big_apple/pseuds/a_big_apple
Summary: Angus has a problem at school, the reapers have a problem at work, and Taako is trying to keep his shit together. Two years after Story and Song, life is domestic something, if not domestic bliss—but Angus has a bad feeling he can't shake, and clues to a mystery that don't quite fit together.





	1. Chapter One - Angus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Adventure Bang 2018, with incredible art by carpdraws on Tumblr! All my thanks to Carp, to the Bang, and to my extremely patient and kind beta.
> 
> I'm listing this as part of a series because it does fall in that timeline, but you don't need to have read the others, this cheese stands alone.
> 
> Some warnings for this fic: explicit sex (because, of course), gaslighting and blood/violence near the end, memory confusion peppered throughout.

Angus doesn’t bother going to the infirmary. He’s had worse and gone without healers, and he doesn’t want to explain; he’s already endured one humiliation today. Instead, he closes himself in his dorm room and pulls out his Stone of Farspeech, throwing clothes into a bag as he waits for the magic to connect.

“Ya got Taako on the horn.”

Angus swallows hard around the sudden lump in his throat. “Hello, sir.”

“Agnes! It’s not Tuesday,” Taako replies. He sounds like he’s smiling. “It’s Friday, when boarding school boys go out and play. Don’t you have practice or something?”

He’s teasing, just the same teasing as always, and it’s bad timing but it still makes Angus’ chest swell. “I, ah, I just wondered where you’re going to be for the weekend.”

“I’m at school, Ren wants me to interview a professor wannabe on Monday. Why?” Taako’s voice is more focused now, pointed, and Angus can picture the keen expression that matches it. “Is something up?”

“I just want to see you, is all,” Angus replies, and he knows by the beat of silence over the line that he’s not fooling anybody.

“Well, I’d love to see you too, little man. I’ll make up your bed.”

***

Taako’s house on the grounds of the Amazing School of Magic doesn’t look like much from the outside. It’s quaint, cozy, lovingly built and lovingly cared for, not the sort of manor one might expect for the school’s Dean of Magic (and hero, and face of the biggest lifestyle brand in the planar system). The approach to the front door is overwhelmed by the enormous garden, allowed to run wild, that blooms even in the dead of winter; the top of the doorframe is delicately carved with birds, and the birds are enchanted to chirp a welcome or a dismissal depending on who stands below. They sing out a line of Angus’ favorite song from Caleb Cleveland: The Musical when he steps in range, and the door unlocks itself to give him entry.

Inside, the house is stuffed with rooms—many more than should logically fit. There’s a wing of guest rooms for important school visitors that connects to the kitchen and a kitschy dining room, bed and breakfast style; there’s a large space for entertaining crowds, with blank walls and nondescript furniture that can be transmuted at will into whatever the event requires. At the back of the house, facing another wild garden ringed around by woods, is the family wing. Taako sleeps and cooks and works back there, tucked away from the more public-purposed spaces, surrounded by another few cottages’ worth of small bedrooms.

The house is quiet, no visitors that Angus can hear, just a faint smell of baking wafting down the hall from the family kitchen. He drops his duffel bag and his cap in his room (fresh linens on the bed he’s quickly growing out of, a curious rose vine creeping in through the open window, a pitcher of magically cold lemonade and a glass on the bedside table) and follows his nose down the hall.

Taako is in full batch baking mode when Angus enters, pulling a tray of golden tart casings out of the oven and sliding an unbaked tray in. There’s a station with fruit and glaze laid out, another covered with cooling racks of macarons awaiting buttercream, and yet another piled with choux buns, their dipped chocolate tops dried glossy and smooth. Angus watches as Taako bends, braid slipping forward over his shoulder, positioning the tray of casings just so, and waits until the oven door is closed and Taako straightens before knocking lightly on the doorframe. “Hello, sir.”

“Ango!” His mentor spins, braid whipping back over his shoulder. There’s a smile on his face as he turns, and Angus knows the moment Taako registers the bruises by the way that smile vanishes. “Angus! What the fuck happened to your face?” Taako crosses the room in three long strides, taking Angus’ chin gently in his hand and turning his head to get a better look. Angus knows what it looked like this afternoon when he left: a scrape over his cheekbone and a rising red-purple underneath, coming up around his eye and down his cheek. It’s been hours since then, it must look even worse now. Taako clucks his tongue softly. “You look like Magnus. Did you get hurt at soccer?”

The truthful answer is yes; he wasn’t _playing_ at the time, but he was at soccer when Runnel Bluetide hit him in the face. He doesn’t even have to lie, but when he opens his mouth, humiliatingly, all that comes out is a sob.

Taako’s face flickers from surprise to worry to rage before it smoothes into something gentler. “Oh, pumpkin.” Any hope Angus had of staying calm and cool vanishes like smoke, and everything just comes bursting out of him in a torrent of feeling that he’s afraid Taako will hate, but he can’t control. Then, even though he’s grown a foot taller and he’s almost twelve, steady arms curl around him and lift him up. He presses his sobs into Taako’s shoulder, ashamed and trembling with it.

“It’s okay,” comes a murmur in his ear. “You have a good cry, I gotcha.”

It feels like he cries for hours. The oven dings, and he hears it open and close. He hears the scrape of a whisk, the thunk of a knife, the crinkle of a piping bag, but Taako’s hands never leave him--one under him to hold him up and the other cupped around the back of his neck. His head throbs, and so do his bruises, and slowly he runs out of energy to do anything but shiver and slowly drip fluids on Taako’s shirt.

Eventually even that dries up as they sway around the kitchen. His limbs feel heavy where they’re wrapped around Taako’s waist and neck, and he keeps his eyes closed, but he’s somehow too tired to just let go and fall asleep. Taako must sense his struggling wakefulness; they move through the room and down the hall, past Angus’ door and all the others, to the master suite at the end. The familiar smells of the house are concentrated here, Taako’s cologne and a hint of Kravitz’s, powdery makeup and fruity lotions, the sugar of a not-at-all-secret cookie stash, the body smells of slept-in sheets. They sink down onto the mattress, and Taako’s fingers curl gently through Angus’ hair and rub along the top of his ear.

“Can I ask you some questions, Angus? You don’t have to answer them right now, but I’d feel better if you do.”

The request is so gently-phrased that it takes Angus off-guard. Taako is never genuinely unkind to him, and he’s been softer since having his memories restored, but this level of hesitant consideration is unusual. Both warmed and a little alarmed, Angus lifts his head, pulls back enough to see Taako give a tiny smile. “There’s my beautiful magic boy,” he whispers, smoothing a thumb over Angus’ uninjured cheek. “I need you to tell me the truth, okay?”

Angus nods and swallows, his mouth sour and dry; a moment later Taako’s holding out a glass of water. “Here, rehydrate.” Angus obeys, sipping slowly, trying to work out what to say and whether to keep anything to himself, trying to guess at what the questions will be. He’s finished half the glass by the time Taako speaks again.

“Okay. First, do you need me to call Merle?”

“No, sir,” Angus replies, croaky and soft.

“You’re not hurt anywhere else?”

Angus shakes his head. “No.”

Taako pauses, craning his head down until Angus meets his eyes. “Did someone hurt you on purpose?”

There’s an edge underneath that one, like a blade in the sheath. When Angus doesn’t answer right away, Taako’s mouth tightens. “I got in a fight,” Angus says at last.

“At school?”

Angus nods again. “At soccer. I’m suspended from play for two weeks.” Taako lets out a slow breath, some of the tension leaving him; Angus hadn’t even realized it was there. He suddenly feels guilty—what things did Taako imagine, that whole time he was crying?

Then Taako rests his forehead against Angus’. “Is the other kid suspended too?”

“She’s expelled,” Angus replies. “And I burned off her eyebrows.”

Taako laughs, sudden and bright. “Nice.”

[ ](http://carpdraws.tumblr.com/post/179591633501/my-contribution-to-theadventurebang-these)

***

Angus wakes in Taako’s bed, still in his school uniform but without his shoes. Pale early light is creeping past the curtains, telling him he’s been asleep for hours, but he doesn’t remember quite how that happened. The bed is mussed and warm as if Taako slept there too, though he’s nowhere in evidence now. Angus isn’t sure what woke him. Maybe just his body clock and the dull pain of his eye and cheekbone, which is honestly enough. When he turns over to look around the room, he finds the half glass of water and what must be a healing potion in a green vial on the bedside table beside his glasses. He sits up slowly and takes a sip from the vial, just enough for pain relief, and is downing the rest of the water when he finally registers a vague background noise as distant shouting.

He slips out of the room and down the hall on quiet stocking feet, following the sound until it resolves into Taako’s voice, high and cutting, behind the closed door of his office.

“...don’t know what kind of school you’re running there, when a kid gets punished for defending himself after being punched in the fucking face!”

_“Listen, my school is usually civilized, it’s your students who are fighting all the time—”_

“No, Lucas, my students _duel_ , there are _rules_ , and healers standing by, and none of them go home at the weekend with shiners the size of Neverwinter! Isn’t anyone supervising these kids?”

_“There was a faculty meeting, all right, my office was ransacked this week—”_

“Well, maybe if Angus wasn’t busy being _assaulted_ , he could have consulted—”

_“Taako, what more do you want me to do? The girl who hit him has been expelled, and Angus’ punishment was very lenient considering he used evocation magic—”_

“—in self defense!”

 _“—in a schoolyard tussle against a_ water _genasi. Angus is the most powerful student here, that kid could have been seriously injured.”_

“Yeah, well, _my_ kid was seriously injured, and you’ll be _very_ lucky if the star student of your shitty school decides to set foot on campus ever again!”

There’s a crash—probably the Stone of Farspeech being thrown into the wall--and movement on the other side of the door.

“Easy bro, you’ll wake him up.”

Lup. The impulse to burst through the door and into her arms is very strong, but Angus hangs back, waiting. Investigating, he tells himself; observing.

“You didn’t see him last night,” Taako says, in the quiet, clipped way he talks when he’s distressed. “He’s hurting.”

“And hopefully he’ll tell us what caused the fight. But you can’t take it out on Nerdlord, research going missing could be a pretty big problem.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Lup is quieter when she speaks again. Angus leans closer to the door.

“It must’ve been tough for you. Handling all that emotional stuff.”

“I know I’m stunted, but I’m not _heartless_ ,” Taako snaps, and Lup tuts.

“Don’t be a dingus. I meant—”

“I know,” Taako sighs out. “Lup, what if he’s lonely there? None of us around, no sister watching his back…”

“He’s made friends. You met them, at his birthday party.”

“Yeah, and where were they when this shit went down? I remember trying to make it on my own, even if some of it wasn’t real. It fucking sucked.”

“Listen. It’s one fight, and we don’t even know what started it. And look what he did when he got overwhelmed! He came home. He has a home to come to. Hell, he has at least four homes to choose from. He’s as far from alone as an independent kid like him can get. Now let’s make him some truly excellent breakfast, and see if we can get to the bottom of things. Okay?”

Angus doesn’t wait to hear the answer; he pads back to the master bedroom and crawls into the middle of the bed, curling up in the mess of pillows and blankets and the soothing Taako smells. He tries to go back to sleep, but it doesn’t come, and eventually the door clicks open and the bed dips.

“Rise and shiner, little man. There’s challah French toast.” When Angus opens his eyes, Taako is perched on the side of the bed with a tray of food in his hands and a carefully neutral expression on his face. He wiggles the tray a little, and it does smell amazing; Angus uncurls and sits up to accept it. Then Taako reaches for the green vial, peering at it before holding it out. “You should drink the rest of this.”

“Don’t need it,” Angus says, and shoves a forkful of syrupy breakfast in his mouth to preclude further talking. The food itself is bliss—soft and eggy and sweet and dusted very lightly with clear crystals from the No-Sodium Salt Shaker--his favorite breakfast, as Taako knows.

His mentor is still scrutinizing him as he sets the vial aside again. “Lup is here. I told her what happened. She’s gonna hang out with us today, if you’re up for that.”

Angus considers, and nods. He’s not sure he will yet, but if he tells them the whole story it’ll be better to have Lup.

A smile flickers across Taako’s face. “You want me to cover it up, if you’re not gonna heal it? Krav has some concealer that’d work for your skin tone.”

Stuffing another forkful in his mouth, Angus shakes his head.

“You’re like a little Burnsides today.” Taako pats his knee through the fluffy blanket. “At least you’re neater.”

***

After breakfast Taako takes the tray, and Angus goes back to his own room to shower and change his clothes. When he ventures out again, refreshed enough to show his face, he finds Taako and Lup curled up against each other on the living room couch, talking in low voices. He’s had enough of eavesdropping though, and anyway, Lup’s ears flick over as he enters and her eyes follow.

“Shit, Ango,” she says, opening her arms in invitation. “You look like you went a few rounds with Killian.”

“I think that’s an exaggeration,” Angus protests, but wriggles his way in between the two of them as Lup crushes him with a sideways hug.

“Well, give us all the deets then.” she says with all the directness Taako lacks, and Angus could kick himself for walking right into it. Taako’s silent on his other side, but slides an arm around his back.

It’s embarrassing somehow, now that he’s cooled down, but Lup is looking at him, steady and open. “Everybody at school heard the Story and the Song, right? I mean, everybody everywhere did,” he begins.

“Sure,” Lup agrees. “We’re legends.”

“And...people think they _know_ you.”

“Fuckin’ tell me about it, you should see some of the fan letters I get,” Taako mutters from his other side.

Lup snuggles Angus close. “But you _actually_ know us, Angus. You’re our family. Do the other kids give you a hard time about it?”

“Um...I mostly don’t talk about it at school,” Angus admits. “Except to my friends. I don’t want people to think I’m bragging.”

“He’s ashamed of us, Lulu,” Taako teases, and Lup makes a rude gesture.

“Of you, maybe.”

“No!” Angus says, with more force than he meant to, and the twins go still on either side. “I mean...kids are always talking about you, and mostly they think you’re great, but some of them don’t. Think you’re great. Sometimes they don’t really know anything at all about you and they say things that are _wrong_ —”

“Ango,” Taako says quietly, and Angus doesn’t realize his hands are fisted and shaking until Lup covers one with her own.

“We’re not perfect, bud,” Lup says finally. “You know that, right? You don’t have to defend us. Not everyone loves everything we did, but everyone’s entitled to their feelings.”

“Except when their feelings turn into punching you,” Taako adds.

Angus nods, throat tight.

Lup leans her head sideways against his. “This genasi kid. Did she lose someone that day? Fighting the Hunger?”

Angus closes his eyes. Hiding the truth is harder when he’s warm and safe. Finally, he shakes his head. “No. She’s...her family lives in Glamour Springs.”

It’s awful, the way Taako goes suddenly stiff beside him, the way Angus can’t swallow back the words.

“She lost her older brother, and I know she was just angry because she misses him but she called Taako a murderer and I got angry too and now she’s _expelled_ , it’s not fair and I didn’t mean it to happen like that, I didn’t!” He clamps his mouth shut hard, eyes burning with fresh tears, shuddering at his admission.

“It’s okay, Angus,” Lup says, gentle and firm, gripping his hand. “Shit, you’re such a good kid. It’s okay. It’s all fixable, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

He leans into the solid warmth of her, but Taako is still silent, and Angus is afraid to look at him. He keeps his eyes closed tight instead. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, I can see how broken up you are about it. But it’s gonna be okay,” Lup murmurs.

“I was afraid to say anything. I didn’t want to upset Taako.” It comes out choked and miserable, because he _has_ told them, and Taako _is_ upset, Angus can tell. Then, finally, Taako presses in closer and folds Angus’ other hand into his own.

“That’s thoughtful, pumpkin. But you can tell me anything, even if you think I’ll be upset, okay?” Taako whispers. “Anything at all, because you’re the kid and I’m the grownup, and that’s how this is supposed to work.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re right, it’s still a tough thing for me to think about. But that’s good sometimes, right? Like crying it all out yesterday. Merle says it’s healthy to feel things, even bad things. Took ol’ Taako a long time to learn that lesson, and I still suck at it. You’re a good example, Angus.”

“Yeah, modeling good behavior for this idiot,” Lup adds, a smile in her voice, and Angus lets out a relieved laugh that’s suspiciously similar to a sob.

“Open your eyes,” Taako tells him, quiet. He does, and Taako smiles. “There you are. Now take a nice deep breath.” He obeys, and gets another smile. “Perfect. You keep doing that, and then in a little while you’re gonna drink the rest of that healing potion to fix up your face, and then we’ll call Lucas and fix up the rest. And tomorrow,” he adds, drawing it out for the drama, “what do you say we bring some of my stress baking to Raven’s Roost?”

***

In the end, it’s Angus and Lup who call Lucas. It’s remarkably easy, after everything, to apologize and ask for Runnel to be reinstated.

(“Does your school have counselors?” Lup asks at one point, and when Lucas stutters around a negative answer, her voice goes a little harder. “You ought to find some.”)

By the time they’re finished, lunch is long past and supper fast approaching, but Taako isn’t in evidence in the kitchen. A brief search reveals the Pocket Spa unfolded in the master bedroom; Angus has been told never to go in there without explicit permission except in an emergency. “Spa time is Taako time” was the explanation given, with a wicked smile that seemed to imply adult situations, and Angus stopped prying immediately.

He knows how to read the room though, and the flicker of hurt in Lup’s expression when she sees the Spa. Sometimes “Taako time” just means having feelings where nobody can see.

“Looks like dinner is up to you and me, kiddo!” she says with determined cheer, and lays a hand on his back to steer him to the kitchen. “Anything you want.”

They settle on lasagna. Lup is happy because she’s become obsessed with cheese—”Barry can’t eat it too often, I try not to indulge when he’s around”—and Angus likes the precise construction of it, the layers of flavors and textures, the deep upright corners of the special pan. He’s only made it once before with Taako, but he remembers all the steps, and Lup can fill in and embellish any blanks in his recollection.

When Taako reappears in fresh makeup and a soft, drapey jumpsuit, hair twisted up into a carefully messy bun, it’s easy to pretend nothing happened. He sweeps in just as the lasagna is coming out of the oven, and grins. “Well look at you two busy bees. Angus, there’s bread in the cabinet, be a good boy and pull it out?” Then he sets the table with a bit of showy levitation, and crosses to the floor-to-ceiling rack in the corner. “Wine, Lulu?”

“Of course.”

“Toss me the—”

“Got it.”

“Should we call Mr. Kravitz and Barry after all?” Angus asks, eyeing the pan. “We made a lot.”

“They’re out on a bounty,” Lup explains, setting out two wine glasses and a tumbler of water. “But I begged off to spend some time with my favorite little brothers.”

“ _I’m_ the older one,” Taako argues, and the exasperated look on his face makes Angus laugh.

“Really?”

“That’s what our Auntie said, and she ought to know, she was there.” Taako leans forward across the table, conspiratorially. “She also said that she could tell us apart because I was the cuter one.”

“Funny,” Lup grins, dishing out pasta onto their plates, “she told me that _I_ was the cuter one.”

“Horseshit!”

***

They polish off half the pan of food between them, and the twins have drained two bottles of wine and opened a third by the time they shift back to the living room sofa. Lup recounts all the childhood stories she can remember as the evening grows darker outside the windows; fascinated, Angus tries to listen, but the food and the day have made him groggy. He loses the thread entirely when Taako stretches an arm out in invitation, letting Angus tip over into his lap.

Angus dreams about Glamour Springs. He only knows as much as he could find out by sleuthing, which is actually most of the salient details: Taako was wanted for the deaths of 40 people who were poisoned by his thirty garlic clove chicken, but he and his assistant fled before he could be charged. The assistant, Sazed, turned himself in after he heard the Story, and confessed to lacing the cooking wine with a deadly quantity of arsenic while setting up the mise en place.

The sheriff of Glamour Springs later sent a written transcript of the confession interview to the Director at her request, which she refused to show to Angus, and a copy to Taako, which he never received and never pursued further—it was tucked away, instead, in Angus’ Book of Interception. Angus only actually read it twice. On the surface, it was straightforward, at least somewhat remorseful if also narcissistic. The subtext was more frightening; there were some red flags that Angus didn’t like to imagine or pursue, but they clung in the back of his mind, growing like mushrooms in the dark.

There are mushrooms in his dream, a dozen different kinds, growing wild in a shaded wood; he’s there picking them, the absurdly long and intricately-knitted scarf around his neck sliding, ends swinging and getting in his way. When his mushroom basket is full, Runnel helps him carefully sort which ones are safe to eat. “My brother taught me when I was little,” she says. “Mushrooms grow really well here, there’s an underground spring.”

Angus brings the mushrooms into town, to Taako, who’s sitting just inside the doorway of a small covered wagon, leaning into a mirror and dabbing concealer on his face. There’s a bruise, the same shape as Angus’, disappearing under the makeup.

“All set up for you,” comes a voice from behind him, and Angus doesn’t turn or look but still knows who it is. Taako turns his face this way and that in a familiar gesture, a final check, then spins to Angus and the looming presence at his back.

“Pumpkin,” he says, taking the basket and picking up a mushroom to examine it, “you did a great job! You picked me all the most poisonous ones.” And before Angus can react, Taako pops the mushroom in his mouth.

***

He jerks awake in darkness, frozen for an agonizing moment before sensation tingles back into his tensed limbs; the dark slowly shapes itself into his bed, his room, the bookshelf Magnus carved and his duffel bag in the corner, and a crack of light coming in from under the door. He stares around at the familiar shadows, shivering as adrenaline leaves him cold, and at last sits up and reaches for his glasses. _Just a dream_ , he tells himself.

He’s in bed in his day clothes for the second night running, which is uncomfortable and strange, so he throws off the covers and shuffles to his bag to change into pajamas. Outside in the hall, he can hear Taako and Lup stumble past, giggling, and he sees the light go out.

 _Everything’s fine. Taako’s fine, Lup is there, they’ll make hangover breakfast in the morning and we’ll go to Raven’s Roost and everything will be fine_.

If he’s going to believe what he tells himself, then there’s nothing to do but get back in bed, think fixedly about the dogs at Hammer and Tails, and hope for better dreams.


	2. Chapter Two - Taako

“Taako. Taako, babe, wake up.”

“Fckoff,” he slurs into his pillow. He can tell that if he comes any closer to consciousness, his head will be pounding and his mouth will taste like something died in it, but _someone_ is shaking his shoulder.

“Come on, I have to go. You’re the one who made me promise not to leave you notes anymore.”

Did he say that? Sounds familiar. He wrenches one eye open; it’s sticky with sleep gunk. There’s a face leaning down into his, one that he knows. He squints at the face. “Lup.” Taako likes it when he can see her as soon as he opens his eyes. It means he doesn’t have that nausea-inducing moment when he can’t remember if she’s real or if he made her up, dreamed a twin to make his lonely backstory more bearable.

Her hand touches his hair, and then she disappears from sight; he can hear her moving around the room. “Get up, bro. Barry called, I gotta split.”

Finally the urgency in her voice breaks through Taako’s sleep haze, and he pushes himself upright, blinking at her. “What’s going on?”

“Bounty left a trap for them,” she says, kicking through a pile of discarded clothes on the floor. “Krav took some damage, I’m gonna sub in. Where the fuck are my shoes?”

Taako’s stomach drops. “How much damage?”

“Barry said he’ll be fine with some healing.” She gives up on the clothing piles. “Maybe I left them in the living room?” Lup pulls the bedroom door open and strides out into the hallway, and Taako jumps up to follow.

“Tell him to come here, I have a good potion stock.”

Lup smiles lopsidedly at him over her shoulder. “Where else would I send Ghost Rider for his tlc?”

Her shoes, it turns out, were abandoned six feet apart along the hallway. Taako trails behind her as she slips into them, watches as she eases open Angus’ bedroom door. He’s asleep, curled up with the blanket up to his nose even though the house is warm; one of the cats, Sour Cream, is curled up on the pillow above his head. Lup tiptoes over to the bed and bends to kiss Angus’ forehead, so lightly that he doesn’t even stir. “See you soon, short stack,” she murmurs.

She makes it look easy. Like loving the fuck out of this kid isn’t the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened.

Taako only realizes that he’s hovering in the doorway like a raincloud, arms wrapped around himself, when Lup has to hip check him out of the way to close the door again. Then she looks at him, the kind of look that means she’s reading his every goddamn tell, and takes him by the arms. “I’ll check back in soon. Give Magnus my love tomorrow.” Then she kisses him on the forehead too, just as softly and easily as she kissed Angus, and opens a rift in space even as her scythe is materializing in her hand.

“Don’t do anything dumb out there,” Taako says, and misses casual indifference by several miles. She laughs anyway, and steps through the rift; a moment later it ripples, and Kravitz stumbles out.

He’s skeletal, which doesn’t scare Taako generally, but it’s not at all great when actual fractures are visible radiating out from his nasal cavity and eye sockets. He’s already putting his flesh back on as Taako reaches out to steady him, and Taako shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says quickly, “your skull is a fucking wreck, let it heal before you pretty up.”

“Whatever you say, love,” replies Taako’s hot terrifying mess of a boyfriend in his corny fake accent, and then slumps barely conscious into his arms.

***

Barry was right, of course. Krav heals up fine with a generous dose of potion, but he’s so exhausted that he barely struggles out of his cape and suit jacket before conking out, fully flesh now, on Taako’s bed. Taako’s exhausted too, and hungover, and it’s still the dark hours of the morning. He strips down to his underwear and then wraps up in a sheet before sprawling on top of Krav. A few of his shirt buttons are undone, and Taako tucks his face there to get that good Grim Reaper chill against his pulsing headache. Kravitz blearily wraps his arms around him, and then Taako feels slow, heavy fingers in his hair.

They doze that way for hours, until Taako’s body heat has warmed Kravitz up enough to shed the blanket and snuggle skin-to-fancy-suit, and his mind is spinning a little too hard to properly sleep or meditate. 

He’ll get up in a little while, make a nice greasy breakfast. Drag Krav along to Raven’s Roost, make him take a break for once. Dump as many pastries as he can on Magnus, give Angus a fun day before he has to go back to school. 

It’s startling, how badly Taako wants to make sure Angus never goes back there. Wants to keep him wrapped up close and safe. Being the adult is awful, he’s constantly sure he’s fucking it up. But then Angus looks at him with trust, with more keen understanding than a little kid should have, and Taako wants to give him everything he and Lup never really got. Love is stronger than fear, some of the time, and that’s the scariest part.

Krav must feel his restless thinking, because he finally stirs just as the sky outside starts to lighten. He hums, low and groggy, and wriggles his knees apart to cradle Taako between them. “You okay?”

Taako tucks his face into Kravitz’s throat, hiding his eyes from the hints of sunrise. “Will be,” he replies. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Always, here with you,” Krav rumbles, and Taako huffs a laugh and nips at the soft skin of his throat.

“You sap.”

Kravitz gives a low, pleased laugh and drags his fingers down Taako’s spine. They follow its curve, Taako flexing into the touch like a cat, until at the bottom they dip under the lacy waist of his briefs. Kravitz pauses there, relaxed, a lazy question that Taako answers with a slow shift of his hips. Neither of them is hard yet, still half asleep, but Taako’s skin prickles with possibility. This is the best part of mornings with his boyfriend—the slow, syrupy build, the unhurried pleasure. Kravitz’s hand curves around his ass, squeezing, and Taako sighs and shifts aside enough to work on the buttons of Kravitz’s shirt with one hand. They rock slowly into each other as he shoves one wing of the shirt open, curling over to get his mouth on a nipple and tug.

Krav’s thighs tighten around him and he grunts like he’s been gut-punched; Taako’s ear is draped along his chest, and he can hear his heart kick into motion. He grins, grinding his hips down to feel Kravitz start to harden through his slacks. “Like a fuckin’ on switch,” he murmurs, and then presses very carefully with his teeth.

Kravitz squirms, both hands gripping Taako’s ass now. “You know all my buttons, babe.”

Taako hums agreement, taking his time, rolling Krav’s nipple against his tongue as his pulse picks up. When he twists over to switch sides, nosing his way under the other edge of the shirt, a warm hand sweeps his hair out of his face and back behind his ear. Krav knows his buttons too, strokes along the point of his ear with the tip of his finger, back and forth hypnotically until it’s flushed and twitching and they’re both breathing fast.

Taako curls back onto his knees, slides his palms from Kravitz’s tensed stomach up over the strong angles of his chest, pushing his shirt the rest of the way open and off his shoulders. Kravitz watches him with hooded eyes, lips parted to breathe. “How did I get so lucky?” Taako murmurs, leaning over to let his hair slide forward, trailing the ends across Kravitz’s skin. 

Krav reaches up to stroke his fingers through it. “Luck had nothing to do with it, it was those tentacles.” 

Taako throws back his head to laugh, and something tense in his chest finally loosens a little. “We’ll try that again sometime,” he says, reaching down at last to tug open Kravitz’s fly. “Lift.” Krav curves his hips up. He spreads his legs wider when his pants come free, and fits his hands on either side of Taako’s waist with careful intent; his thumbs swipe slow arcs along the skin as they settle together again. He’s beautiful like this, vulnerable, and that’s a thrill Taako may never get over. 

So he smiles, a little wicked, and strokes along Krav’s inner thighs to frame the impressive mound of his erection; it’s leaking onto the front of his soft gray briefs, and it twitches as Taako’s fingers graze close, thumbs pressing up under his balls. Kravitz’s head falls back against the pillows with a strained huff of breath, and his throat is just _there_ , begging to be sucked on; Taako slides up his body again to satisfy the urge, and then to kiss him, slow and heated.

Kravitz’s mouth is intoxicating, even first thing in the morning. He’s got legit fangs in there, like some hot-as-fuck vampire, and now that his blood is pumping his tongue is slick and warm against Taako’s. He kisses deeply, devouring, like a man who doesn’t actually need to breathe, and Taako’s lungs are burning and his cock’s hard as a diamond by the time Krav releases him.

“Tell me what you want,” Kravitz croons, rubbing his nose along Taako’s and biting at his lips. His hands are back on Taako’s ass, tracing the high cut of his panties. With the lightest touches Kravitz holds their bodies together as he presses his hips up in a pulsing rhythm.

All Taako can do is weakly moan on every exhale, leaning their foreheads together as he gets his breath back. “Nothing too messy,” he finally murmurs, “Ango’s here. He had a rough couple of days.” The _he might need me_ goes unspoken.

Kravitz hums and grips his ass tighter, grinding their trapped cocks together with more purpose. “Can you come just from this?” he rumbles, like a challenge, and Taako winds his arms under Krav’s neck to pull them closer. He has a modest swath of dark, coiled chest hair that scrubs against Taako’s nipples as he writhes.

“Fuck. Yeah.”

Kravitz tips his head back with a trembly exhale, his thighs falling wider apart; Taako spreads his own up underneath them to get better purchase, leaning into the wet drag of their cocks together through soft cotton and silk. It’s so _good_ , so grounding to have Kravitz here underneath him, broad and body-warmed, his hair splayed in ropes across the pillow and every now and then a flicker of bone under the skin when he starts to lose control. Taako chases it with tidal slowness, that flicker, that power, making Death fall apart in his bed. He chases his own pleasure too, slow to start but rising sudden and fast, spiking every time Kravitz moans or cranes his head up for a hungry kiss.

Their mouths are locked together when Kravitz rubs Taako’s balls through the silk, cups them in his palm. He has big hands, long-fingered and clever, and Taako’s so fucking hot for them. It shouldn’t be as inflaming as it is when one of those seeking fingers presses in along his taint, finds his hole and circles it through the fabric. “ _Oh,_ ” Taako whines into his mouth, surprised; then Kravitz nudges the silk and the tip of his finger inside. 

It’s searingly hot, just that little touch, the schoolboy naughtiness of it even though Krav’s had his fingers and his dick and his tongue down there countless times; Taako has to pull back to muffle a shout into Kravitz’s shoulder. He pushes in a little more and _wiggles_ , and all of Taako’s nerves are on fire.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , yes, fuck—” he pants, voice warbling humiliatingly high.

Kravitz moans, sharp and tight, rutting up against him with sudden urgency. “That’s it, babe—”

He pulls his finger back and presses in a little harder and Taako’s caught, thrashing between two sharp points of pleasure for a helpless, agonizing moment—then it breaks, rolling through him in thunderous pulses as he presses his cry into Kravitz’s skin. He’s still writhing with it, shaky and twitching, when Krav’s back snaps up into an arch and he comes, groaning through his teeth.

It’s such a good, sweet sound that Taako has to kiss him again, softer now, little wet pecks and panting together as they come down. Kravitz squeezes Taako like a teddy bear before going loose-limbed, kissing his upper lip and his nose. “Love.”

“Mm. Babe,” Taako replies, a nonsensical trade of endearments that makes him laugh. “That was hot.”

“Mmm,” Kravitz agrees. “I’ll remember.”

They lay quiet for a little while, Kravitz timing his breathing to Taako’s as it slows, getting cooler and stickier but unwilling to move enough to do anything about it.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Kravitz has long since given up protesting that he doesn’t need to eat. “Bacon,” he rumbles. “And pancakes.”

Taako huffs into his skin, words pressed against his jaw. “Can you tell I’m hungover, or do you just want one of your disgusting pancake sandwiches?”

“Both,” he laughs. “Pancake sandwiches are not disgusting, Angus likes them.”

“Blasphemy. You’re a bad influence on him.”

Kravitz smiles placidly and pets Taako’s hair, winding it through his fingers. “He okay? You said something happened.”

Taako nestles closer. “A kid on his soccer team is from Glamour Springs. They got in a tussle about it.”

He already told Kravitz about what happened there, about Sazed, after a sufficiently tongue-loosening amount of wine. Not every detail, but enough that Kravitz can get the right idea now; he’s still for a moment, processing, then nuzzles his face against Taako’s with careful affection. “He’s protective of you,” he murmurs, still petting Taako’s hair in soothing strokes.

“He shouldn’t be,” Taako mutters, and tucks his face back into the quiet darkness of Kravitz’s neck. “He’s too fucking much like Lup.”

“Because he cares about you?”

“Because he cares about _people,_ ” Taako whines in reply.

“You care about people.”

“Only about _my_ people. That’s all I have the fucking energy for.” Kravitz hums softly, neither assent or disagreement, and goes from stroking his hair to his shoulder blades and the freshly-tensing muscles of his back. Taako blows out a slow breath, trying to hang on to the post-sex lassitude, and they breathe together for a while longer as the sun slips further into the room.

“I remember the last thing my father said to me, when he left us at our Auntie’s,” Taako finally murmurs. “ _You’re the big brother, it’s your job to take care of things_. And now I think, fuck him putting that bullshit on me, I’m only twenty-two minutes older and Lup has always been plenty capable, we took care of _each other_. But that was my last memory of him. I mean, I forgot it for a while, but. She was number one, you know? And the rest was dust.”

”It’s all right that you’re different from her,” Kravitz says into his hair. “I love the way you care. So does Lup, and so does Angus.” It’s not comfort, precisely—it’s more matter-of-fact. Kravitz is good like that, and Taako’s obscenely grateful for it. He’s also grateful for the way Kravitz seems to know that he’s tired of talking; he just twists to press kisses along Taako’s hairline, wrapping him loosely in his arms.

“Okay,” Taako finally murmurs. “I’ll make you bacon and pancakes.”


	3. Chapter Three - Angus

“Morning, Mr. Kravitz,” Angus mumbles, bleary, and plunks into his usual chair. “Morning, Taako.”

“Good morning, sunshine,” Taako replies, and flips two pancakes from the pan onto a plate with unnecessary flair.

There’s bacon already on the table, a heaping plate of it, and butter, and syrup, and a glass of fizzy orange juice at Angus’ place. It’s almost certainly just a ginger ale spritzer and not a mimosa from the pitcher on the counter, but it feels pleasantly adult to sip it from a champagne flute as Taako slides a plate of pancakes in front of him.

Just a normal Sunday morning, like the feverish tension of the last few days has finally broken.

Feeling lighter, Angus turns his full attention to his food. A pancake first, the bottom of the sandwich, spread with butter and topped with a careful, even spiral of syrup. They he layers on the bacon, two crisp slices placed horizontally and two vertically. He hears Taako sigh, a hopeless sort of sound that makes him smile, as he butters and syrups the second pancake and lays it on top.

The pancakes are golden brown and dense enough that he can pick the whole assembly up in his hands to bite it. Kravitz is halfway through his own sandwich, which he taps solemnly against Angus’.

“Cheers.”

Angus giggles. “Cheers.”

Taako slumps into a chair and snags a slice of bacon. “Like I said,” he tells Kravitz, shaking the slice at him before folding it into his mouth like a stick of gum, “a bad influence.”

“You should be very proud,” Kravitz protests. “We’re food innovators.” He’s thrown on a worn blush-pink tank top and plaid flannel pajama pants that are very much not his style—Taako’s clothes, certainly, rather than part of the physical construct of his body—and his locs hang loose around his face and over his shoulders. Angus likes it when he comes to breakfast this way, casual and approachable, like a secret only their family, and not even _all_ of their family, gets to see.

Taako, on the other hand, is already dressed in leggings and the oversized tunic with the embroidered skull on it, one of his favorites. His hair is freshly braided, glamour and makeup applied, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush; instead he slouches at the table and watches them eat.

“So Agnes,” he says after a comfortable silence, “I’m thinking I’ll come with to your school tomorrow. ‘sbeen a while since I did any recon over there. I gotta keep an eye on my competition.”

Angus takes a bite of his pancake sandwich, chewing as he considers. Taako does sometimes do “recon” at the AAS, but it’s clear from his carefully casual tone that this isn’t one of those times; Angus is quite good at navigating the maze of Taako’s affections now. He smiles. “Sounds good.”

Taako smiles too, a sudden warm and unguarded flash, and leans across the table to wipe a bit of syrup from Angus’ cheek with his thumb. “Good.”

***

Kravitz opens a rift directly into Magnus’ kitchen to deposit their armfuls of baked goods, and they are immediately met with the baying and barking of a houseful of dogs. Angus is clinging piggyback on Kravitz, out of reach—months ago one of the new dogs got too excited and knocked him right over, splitting his lip with an exuberant paw, and he’s been wary of the first sudden swarm of them ever since. Still, it’s hard not to be charmed by the sea of wagging, wriggling bodies all eager to lick any skin they can reach.

“Sit! Everybody sit!” Magnus booms from somewhere in the house, and even without him in the room yet they all obey; Kravitz bends to let Angus down, and he pets their heads in a round of greetings as reward.

Then Magnus appears, a grin splitting his face. “Sorry, I was waiting out on the porch! Thought you might arrive in the yard.”

Taako gestures to the pastry boxes now laid out on the kitchen table, and the lids pop open to reveal their contents. “Had to get all this off my hands, my man. I hope you can eat it all.”

“No problem,” Magnus assures around a bite of fruit tart already in his mouth; then he claps Kravitz on the shoulder in greeting and bends to squeeze the life out of Angus. “But hey look, you brought the best treat of all!”

Taako makes an exaggerated retching sound, and Angus giggles into Magnus’ chest. “Hi, sir.”

“How’s school?”

“Fine,” Angus replies, but he can tell by the beat of silence that follows as Magnus releases him that he’s heard at least a little of the story.

One of the best things about Magnus, though, is that he never presses. Instead he grins and flattens Angus’ hat to his head with a meaty hand. “You up for some f-e-t-c-h? The dogs could use yard time.”

“Okay!”

Fetch with a dozen large, eager dogs is a study in chaos. Magnus hauls a huge bucket of balls out into the enormous yard, and Angus throws them one after the other in all directions without a pause in between; the dogs streak off after them and tussle with each other to bring them back. Magnus has trained them to return the balls to the bucket, though some of them haven’t gotten the hang of it yet and some wind up at Angus’ feet instead. There’s a shaggy three-legged mutt named Valto (“Lucky in Elvish,” Magnus explained) who won’t let go of her ball once she’s got it, just runs in delighted circles and squeezes it in her jaws.

When Angus’ arms start to tire, he tries to dribble one of the balls through the pack. It’s much smaller than a soccer ball though, and the dogs are too quick; after nearly tripping over his own feet he gives up and wanders back to the porch. Some of the dogs have flopped down in the grass to pant, and some are still chasing each other around. Johann and Peaches flank Angus as he goes, with Valto trailing along behind still mouthing at the ball she claimed.

The wrap-around porch is lined with rocking chairs of all different sizes, each hand-carved; Magnus, Kravitz and Taako have set up in three of these, passing a box of pastries between them, each with a Redcheek cider in hand. They look to be talking intently, and for a moment Angus wonders if it’s about him—but they don’t pause as he approaches, nor do they change the subject when he drags an orc-sized rocker over for himself. There are smaller ones, meant for Merle and Davenport and any children who happen to visit, but Angus prefers one oversized enough to curl up in. The only acknowledgement of his arrival is Taako’s hand reaching out to steady the chair as Angus climbs into it, and then offering the pastry box. There are some macarons left; Angus takes three.

“The real problem is that they’re good at covering their tracks,” Kravitz is saying. “We know they entered this plane somewhere in Neverwinter, but there are so many souls and so much magic it’s impossible to pinpoint _where_. We’ve tried following magic surges with Astral energy residue—”

“Ghost stink,” Taako explains to Magnus with an air of authority.

Kravitz ignores the interruption. “—but they’re leaving traps behind. We don’t even have a name on the bounty yet. It’s just someone from the Sea of Souls who found, or created, a rift. No prior offenses, no unusual activity, no clues to go on.”

“Maybe someone who was pulled out? Like Noelle?” Magnus suggests, picking at the label on his cider.

“It’s a strong possibility, but we’ve had no luck running down an accomplice either. It’s a crime only successfully committed by Lucas Miller, and he has a warning on his soul, his name would have come up in the book if he were involved.”

“Only if he were _directly_ involved?” Angus clarifies, and all three of them look over at him. He’s a step ahead—he almost always is, with mysteries—but he tries not to let on how often he eavesdrops. A nudge in the right direction should do. “So, it wouldn’t tell you if someone was using the same method?”

“He’s forbidden from teaching necromantic science,” Kravitz counters, “though I suppose rules haven’t stopped him in the past.” Then the reaper pauses, leans in toward Angus. “He isn’t teaching necromantic science, is he?”

“Not as far as I’ve seen,” Angus assures him.

Then Taako stiffens, his ears perked, and Angus knows he has it. “Someone broke into his office.”

Kravitz turns sharply to Taako. “What?”

“Lucas, I was on the Stone with him, he said his office was broken into last week, that some of his notes were stolen.” Taako scowls. “I didn’t even fuckin’...I was just too steamed to give a shit about that. Lup even _said_ it was worth worrying about.”

“She was there when he said it?” Kravitz asks, and Taako nods.

“Yesterday morning.”

“I’ll debrief with her.” Kravitz stands, laying his hand over Taako’s where it’s fisted on the arm of the rocker. “It’s all right, love. You had other things on your mind.”

“Yeah, well, he’s gonna hear _everything_ that’s on my mind when I’m there tomorrow.”

“I can do some investigating too,” Angus offers, and Kravitz pats his head.

“Thank you, but both of you please be careful.”

“Same to you,” Taako tells him, turning his face up for a kiss. Kravitz obliges even as his scythe is materializing in his hand, and then a moment later he’s gone.

“Well, dunk,” Magnus says into the silence that follows. “How are you guys gonna get home?”

[ ](http://carpdraws.tumblr.com/post/179591633501/my-contribution-to-theadventurebang-these)

***

Taako fixes them a late lunch. He keeps one cabinet in Magnus’ kitchen stocked for his own use, and swipes or transmutes whatever else he needs from the icebox. Magnus is immediately banished from the room, but he lets Angus help with the chopping; Angus is sure to do the garlic first. Taako’s never suggested that he dislikes chopping garlic himself, but afterward he washes his hands and scrubs under his fingernails with almost obsessive thoroughness. Angus is happy to take on the task without making Taako ask. Also, he likes bashing the cloves with the knife.

Hurried along by judicial applications of magic, they soon sit down to pasta with sauteed zucchini and eggplant in a bright, thick tomato sauce. For the most part, the dogs get sent from the room at mealtimes, and retreat disappointed to their beds in various corners of the house, but one by one in rotation they are asked to sit still and quiet at Magnus’ feet. Today it’s Valto, who has since tired of the ball she’d claimed and settles down beneath the table with a tiny huff of a sigh.

“So, this investigating you’re gonna do tomorrow,” Magnus says around a mouthful of pasta as they tuck in. “You want me to come with? I know I’m not the sneakiest, but if it’s gonna be dangerous I can be the muscle.”

“It won’t be dangerous,” Taako replies. “Angus can sleuth around while I give that nerd a piece of my mind, ask a couple questions, and then he’s gonna go back to studying or whatever and let the Reaper Squad do the rest. Right?” Taako’s eyes cut over to Angus, sterner than his mild tone would suggest.

“I do have a practical on Tuesday,” Angus agrees. “We’re wrapping up a unit on basic magilectrical engineering.” Taako’s ears flick; he knows loophole language when he hears it, but he doesn’t call Angus out on it.

Magnus just grins.

***

They leave astride Garyl just after lunch, Angus in the front gripping the saddle horn, Taako close behind him with a hand on the reins and an arm around his waist. He twists around to wave to Magnus until he’s just a distant speck, then settles back into place against Taako’s chest.

“How’s your Shield?” Taako asks in his ear, when they’ve left Raven’s Roost proper and hit the open road. “I know the Director taught you some Abjuration.”

“It’s pretty good,” Angus admits. He knows Taako knows about his “extracurriculars” on the moonbase, but they don’t usually talk about it. “Why?”

“We need to pick up some serious speed to get home before Garyl’s hour is up, I don’t want my hat flying off in the breeze. Or, you know, my kid.”

Angus ducks his head, feeling his face flush with pleasure. “Around Garyl too?”

“Naw naw naw,” the binicorn drawls. “Gotta get the wind in my hair, you know what I mean?”

“Gotcha.” Angus pats Garyl’s neck, then pulls his wand from inside his shirt and casts just wide enough for two and high enough for Taako’s hat.

Taako gives an approving hum. “Sweet. Hold on, knees and hands,” he warns, his arm tightening around Angus’ waist. “Git up, Garyl!”

The binicorn snorts, but picks up from a jog to a lope to a full-out gallop, stretching his neck out to shake his head in pleasure. Angus’ spell blocks the wind, but doesn’t do anything for the rocking of Garyl’s back beneath them; it’s awkward until he gives up trying to move himself and leans back into Taako, who leans into the motion like it’s second nature.

“You’re very good at this, sir,” he remarks, and Taako scoffs.

“Chyeah, Taako’s good at everything worth doing.”

“How did you learn?”

“Me ‘n Lup worked on our grandpa’s farm for a while, when we were kids. We weren’t big enough to do as much as the other farmhands did, thank Istus, but we did the cooking and the baking and the canning, and took care of the animals.” He pauses for a moment, the kind of quiet Angus had learned means he’s turning his recollections over in his mind. “ _I_ took care of the animals. Lup liked the boring chores, she chopped wood and worked in the field and shit. But we did handle all the food together, I remember it. That was the first time we came up with our own recipe.”

Angus can’t contain an excited wriggle. “What was it? Can we make it when we get home?”

“Geez, kid, stop squirming. Abrazo de Tía, and we can make it if you want. I’ll teach you the song, if I can remember it….”

“Song?” Angus leans back, tilts his head up a little to try to catch a view of Taako’s face. “...sir?”

Taako’s fingers twitch out a little pattern against Angus’ side. “Tomatoes, onions, garlic, cilantro,” he sings, soft and unsure. “If you want a kick, go for double jalapeño…something something something salsa...aw, fuck. We might need Lup for the middle.”

Angus twists around as much as he can, staring at Taako until the elf finally blinks and focuses on him. “Taako. _Please explain_.”

Taako grins, then bursts out laughing. “Sit straight. You’re keen for all the Taako backstory this weekend, huh?”

“I’m keen all the time, sir.”

“No shit. It’s not that exciting, our grandpa was a bard. He made up all these little songs to help us remember how to do our chores, so we made one up to remember our first recipe. I could make it blindfolded now, I haven’t thought about the song in probably two hundred years.”

Angus tries to picture it: Taako and Lup as children, out in the countryside of their home plane, singing songs together over the stove. There’s so much about his family that he doesn’t know, couldn’t imagine, even after the Story and Song. He tries to keep track of every new shred of information, especially when Taako’s in a talking mood, but sometimes they contradict. It’s hard to know what’s real for certain when Taako himself isn’t always sure.

“Maybe we could do that now.”

“Agnes, even I’d have a hard time cooking on the back of a glorious speeding binicorn,” Taako says, with a smirk in it that means he’s being deliberately obtuse. “Though that would be a pretty rad stunt, I’ll have to keep it in mind for my next cookbook tour.”

Angus chooses to ignore the tone. “No, I mean, make up songs about things you know are true. New things, or old things when you’re sure about them. To help you remember.” He feels Taako’s chest move behind him with a quick, anxious breath. He’s taking a chance; it’s a touchy subject, but the moment seems right. Angus is relieved and gratified when a moment and a few slower breaths pass without a reply. “Like right now! Teach me how to ride, we can make up a song for it.”

“We’re going backwards, starting at a gallop,” Taako mutters, but drapes the reins around the saddle horn and gets both his hands on Angus’ waist. “You wanna sit toward the back of the saddle, when you’re on it by yourself. And sit up straight. Not stiff, just...yeah, like that. Lean in a little, for a gallop, you wanna make yourself easy to carry.”

Angus tries to hold himself balanced without leaning back; it’s a strain. Taako pats his stomach with a laugh.

“Works your core, huh? Don’t scrunch your legs up so much. Your thighs’ll help you balance, but you don’t want your calves to touch too much. It’ll be easier when your legs are a little longer.”

“I can do it now,” Angus shoots back, automatic, and flushes when Taako laughs.

“Yeah, all right. Now, open your hand, bracer side.” Taako lays the reins across Angus’ palm and closes his fingers around them. “Stay relaxed. A good mount, Garyl especially, just needs a light touch to know what you want.”

The whole thing feels difficult, and awkward, and it’s a little frightening to have even theoretical control over a huge speeding animal; still, Angus is a determined student in all things. He follows Taako’s instructions and gentle adjustments for a painful few minutes where everything he’s doing feels at odds with Garyl’s motion, and then Taako’s finger under his chin lifts his eyes to the path ahead. The whole motion feels better that way, like when Merle tried to teach him to dance at Candlenights and yelled to stop looking at his own feet. Then Taako’s hands slide away from him altogether and he’s balancing, alone, the reins in his hand, euphoric for the briefest moment.

It’s incredible, until he starts to tip forward a little too much; he flails for a moment, and winds up clutching the saddle horn as the reins flap loose on Garyl’s neck. Taako’s arm is back around him a breath later, taking up the reins again. “Not bad.”

Angus tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding. “You’re supposed to make it a song.”

“Gimme a tune, then,” Taako replies with an exaggeratedly put-upon air. Angus thinks for a moment, feeling the fast beat of Garyl’s gait. Then he hums out a bit of his third-favorite song from Caleb Cleveland: The Musical, the montage where Caleb’s retired detective mentor teaches him self-defense.

Taako laughs in his ear, loud and delighted. “Oh, pumpkin. Okay, sure.” He hums along for a bit, getting the rhythm of it, then leans close to quietly sing. “Sit deep, sit tall. Let your legs hang freely. Keep your arms relaxed while one hand holds the reins. To turn left, look left, touch the right rein gently. Tug on both to stop, if you fall, get up again.”

Angus has never really heard him sing before, he realizes. Taako’s voice is mild, pleasant, high but without the warbly affectation of his speech. It feels like a gift, a moment to be tucked away for future remembrance. Angus is good at memorizing, so he only needs to hear the song once before he repeats it back, trying to do as the words instruct. He sings it over and over as they near home, and Taako never once complains—just helps him balance and adjusts his posture with light guiding touches.

***

Despite traveling at supernatural speed, Garyl’s hour is up before they make it all the way home; Angus and Taako have to walk the last half-mile in the fading sunlight. They crest the hill onto campus just as the sun disappears, and cross to the northern end where the house sits tucked against the woods. There are lights on in the front windows.

“Company,” Taako sighs, but Angus knows he loves the revolving door of family and friends who make themselves at home here.

The light turns out to be Ren, grading papers in the office Taako only uses for meetings. “You got my Stone message about tomorrow, right?” Taako calls through the open office door, without bothering to say hello.

“I did,” Ren replies. “I don’t manage your calendar anymore, that’s why we hired Susan. Heya, Angus.” She swivels in her chair to face them, holding out an arm; Angus kicks off his shoes and hangs up his cap by the door, and hurries in for a hug.

“Hi Miss Ren! What are you working on?”

“ _You_ hired Susan, I hate Susan,” Taako gripes. He hangs up his hat as well, and one of the three scarves he’s got wrapped around his neck.

“Yeah, that’s why I moved your interview for the new professor myself, she’s coming here for dinner tomorrow instead.” Ren shoots him a satisfied grin. “I told her you make a mean mushroom and goat cheese quiche.”

Taako groans. “At least tell me you’re going to be at this meeting too?”

Ren smiles wryly and pats the stack of papers in front of her. “Well, you might remember that I teach Topics in Magical Anthropology on Monday evenings.” Then she turns to Angus, addressing his question. “Gotta get these papers graded and handed back. First ones of the year are always a little shaky, but there was a pretty good one about dragon culture and hoarding practices between different species.”

“Sounds fascinating!” Angus agrees, and Ren fishes the paper out of her done pile to pass over.

Taako huffs. “Sounds like a nerd.”

“Better a nerd than _this_ ,” Ren replies, tossing her quill down on the paper she was reading. “A high elf trying to rile me with crummy research on race relations in the Underdark.”

Taako frowns at that, leaning over her. He scans the paper, and his scowl deepens. “I’ll write some comments, if you want.”

“I can handle it.”

Taako straightens, the little wrinkle of tension in his brow smoothing. “Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind. You staying for dinner?”

“Sure, thanks. Need a hand?”

“Naw, me ‘n the kid have a plan. Right, Angus?”

The paper on dragons _is_ fascinating, if a little shallowly researched, but not better than cooking with Taako. “Right!”

Taako sets him up at the kitchen island with a knife and a cutting board piled with vegetables. “Nice thick slices on the zucchini and dice the rest,” he instructs. Angus watches him poke through the cabinets and the icebox, pulling out ingredients and humming to himself. It’s the tune he was singing the recipe to earlier, and Angus commits it to memory as he chops, storing it away to ask Lup about later.

They work in companionable quiet for a while as Taako roasts, skins, and de-stems tomatoes and peppers with a few taps of his wand. He adds these to Angus’ pile, then stands at the island with him sweeping diced onion and garlic and plucking cilantro into a wide coral mortar. His humming trails off as he starts in with the pestle; when Angus looks up, he’s got his tongue between his teeth in a way that means he’s working up to something he wants to say. Angus is content to wait; he can guess what it’s going to be about, anyway.

Then Taako surprises him. “Listen, Angus...if you don’t want to go back to school tomorrow, you don’t have to.”

“Oh!” is all Angus can reply. When Taako arches a brow at him, he gives a sheepish smile. “I thought you were going to tell me to be careful investigating Lucas’ office.”

Taako scoffs. “You’re way more careful adventuring than I’ve ever been, and you’ve got three reapers in the family who can get to you instantaneously. Taako’s not gonna get in the way of your thing. But if you’re not happy there, or...you know, anything, you don’t have to...you can transfer or something, if you want, is all I’m saying.”

He’s fumbling, looking fixedly down at his work and giving the pestle an enormous amount of flustered elbow grease; it warms Angus right through. “Sir, is this another recruitment talk?”

Pausing to add more to the bowl, Taako cracks a smile. “You can’t resist the best wizard in the world forever.”

Angus is saved from having to answer by the familiar sound of dimensions tearing; a reaper portal appears in the kitchen doorway and Lup manhandles Barry through. “Taako, will you please feed this man and make him get some rest? He’s not allowed to burn his last living body until it’s reached peak silver fox.”

“So, never,” Taako replies without missing a beat; satisfied with the job he’s done, he pours the contents of the mortar into a pan. “Angus, get me the bouillon cubes.”

“So, pretty soon,” Barry says, smoothing back the graying hair at his temples and grinning. He looks cheerfully exhausted. “Is that Abrazo? I’ll stay for Abrazo.”

“Save me some extra,” Lup calls, then blows a kiss to Angus and plants one on Barry’s cheek before disappearing back into the Astral plane.

Barry pulls up a stool at the island. “So Angus! I hear you burned some kid’s eyebrows off. That must’ve been some nice spell shaping. Are you thinking about specializing?”

“Not yet,” Angus replies, bringing Taako the bouillon. “It’s difficult to choose, I go back and forth on what would be most useful for detective work.”

Taako drops two cubes into the salsa bubbling away in the pan. “Don’t pester him, Barry. This has three jalapeños in it, by the way, too late to tone it down for you.”

“ _Ruin_ me with it, bud,” Barry replies, resigned but pleased, and rests his chin on his hands.

Shaking his head, Taako sighs and turns to glance at Angus. “You can use my bathroom tonight, kiddo.”

***

**Abrazo de Tía (Auntie’s Hug)**

**Serves 4**

**Ingredients:**

4 medium tomatoes

1-3 jalapeños, depending on your taste for spice

1 zucchini

1 large white onion

5 cloves garlic

10-12 sprigs cilantro

2 salmon steaks

4 eggs

½ tps salt or more to taste

2 tsp bouillon paste or 2 bouillon cubes (optional)

**Instructions:**

1\. Roast the tomatoes and jalapeños in the oven at 400F for 15-20 minutes or until the skins split.

2\. Slice the zucchini (or if you prefer smaller pieces, cut into chunks).

3\. If you’re using a mortar and pestle like Taako, dice the onion, garlic, cilantro, and the tomatoes and jalapeños (skinned and de-stemmed). If you’re on the Plane of Thought and you have a blender, rough chop everything and toss it in there. Grind (or pulse blend) into a thick liquid salsa.

4\. Heat a dollop of oil in a high-rimmed saucepan and sauté the salsa mixture until slightly thickened, 4-6 minutes.

5\. Place the salmon steaks and zucchini slices in the salsa and salt to taste. If you like an umami hit in your food (like I do), add bouillon paste or cubes. Stir well and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a steady simmer, spooning liquid over the salmon if it isn’t completely submerged. Remove salmon after five minutes of simmering to let it rest.

6\. Crack eggs one at a time into a separate bowl and slide them into the liquid. Poach for 4-6 minutes if you like runny yolks, or a little bit longer for firm yolks.

7\. Serve with tortillas or whatever bread you like! I sometimes make cheese quesadillas to go with mine, and dipped them in the salsa broth with that great new discovery from the Plane of Thought, sour cream. Leftover salsa also goes really nicely on avocado toast!


	4. Chapter Four - Taako

Dinner is perfect, natch. Angus makes tortillas while the salmon and the zucchini are poaching in the salsa, without any help from Taako; they come out oddly shaped but they smell perfect. He lets Angus slide four eggs in to poach too, at the very end, but he serves everything himself when it’s ready. They heap him with praise as they eat, Ren especially, as is his due; of course it’s fucking delicious, he could make Abrazo de Tía in his sleep.

But he still can’t remember the damn song.

He knows the recipe, so he’s got the words. He remembers the tune, or most of it. He just can’t put the two together. It eats at him a little, even though rationally he knows that after more than two centuries of not thinking about it, even Lup wouldn’t remember it anymore. He tries humming the riding song he made up for Angus instead, quiet under the conversation at the table; Angus catches it and grins at him around a forkful of fish.

When the food is all but gone and dessert of leftover pastries polished off, Ren calls it an early night and leaves with her stack of grading. Angus offers to wash all the dishes, and that kind of shit builds character or something, so Taako lets him; he and Barry retreat to the living room sofa instead to put their feet up.

“Thanks for the tip about Lucas’ notes being stolen,” Barry says as he melts into the cushions. “Seems like it’s related. Once we knew what to look for, we found traces of a magic surge that could be from a soul being pulled through a sapphire mirror. Pinpointed it to somewhere in the Southern District.”

“Near the school.”

“Yeah, but they moved on from there pretty fast. We trailed them east, through all those little country villages. That’s where boss man’s face got busted, there was this cave by a spring that was set to collapse.”

“Sizzle It Up territory,” Taako muses, and then Barry’s words catch up to him. “Wait. ‘ _Boss man_?’”

“Yeah,” Barry answers with a grin. “He hates it. And you can’t talk, he hates ‘Bone Daddy’ just as much.”

“Not anymoooore,” Taako drawls with a wicked grin, and Barry shoves him with his shoulder.

“TMI, brother.”

They lapse into the comfortable silence of two people who have had nearly every conceivable idle conversation, Barry starting to drowse, Taako making a mental list of what he’s going to chew Lucas out for tomorrow. His shitty security, his clearly inferior mentoring skills, his complete failure to problem-solve….

His eyes have drifted shut and he’s halfway to meditating when the cushions next to him shift. “Just me,” Angus whispers as he squeezes between Taako and a now-snoring Barry. Taako cracks one eye open; Angus is already in pajamas, book in hand. He smiles and tilts himself lightly into Taako’s side. He’s fuckin’ cute like this, young-looking in a way Taako sometimes forgets. When the elf stretches, joints cracking, Angus snuggles into him a little more.

From what Taako can read over his shoulder, the book seems like beginner illusion magic theory; he vaguely remembers Angus receiving it as a birthday gift from Davenport. “Hachi machi, is everybody trying to win you over to their thing? You know I’ll be very hurt and never recover if you specialize in anything but transmutation.”

Angus ignores this and instead gives a practical answer. “I’ll be more valuable as a teacher if I have a wide knowledge base before I specialize, that way I can fill in whatever’s needed.”

“And negotiate a better salary, you weasel.”

His shrug is noncommittal, but the smile at the corner of Angus’ mouth says otherwise. “I’m learning from the best.”

Then Angus returns to his book, and Taako returns to light meditation, sinking just deep enough to go away in his head a little. He’s still vaguely aware of Barry’s snorting breaths and the turning of book pages, but they’re farther away; most present to him now are snippets of Angus’ riding song and the barely-remembered recipe song, the creaking of wagon wheels, the smell of garlic that lingers on his clothes. He drifts there for a while, poking idly at the inside of his mind, until Barold J. Bluejeans snorts so hard he wakes himself up with a jolt that startles Taako awake, too.

Barry scrubs at his eyes and looks over sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mouths, then glances down at Angus. “Still asleep though.”

Taako blinks, and slowly registers Angus’ full weight slumped into the crook of his arm. “Right.” He slides his other arm under Angus’ knees and lifts him, book flopped open against his chest. He’ll be too big for this eventually, Taako thinks. But not yet.

“Go to bed,” he whispers, shoving at Barry with his foot in lieu of a goodnight, and brings Angus back to his room to tuck him in. Angus barely stirs; he’s a deep sleeper, for a world-renowned detective. The book gets laid in the pile on the bedside table with the page marked for tomorrow, and Taako only stands there watching him sleep like a creeper for a _few_ minutes before retreating to his own bed.

***

Taako’s surfing. He’s riding the crest of a long, clean wave that never seems to end; it carries him, floating for what seems like hours until he can see the swell peeling perfectly toward him. He steadies his footing, tips the nose of his board down onto the face of the wave. His board, when he looks down at it, is a shark. It’s solid and steady beneath him, and together they pull in toward the barrel. The water arcs over them as it breaks, blue-green all around them, and then it slides down over his skin.

It’s satin, not water; he’s in his bed, and it’s as wide as a calm sea. The shark is there too, the shape of its fin sliding under the top sheet toward Taako. He watches it approach, swaying side to side as it swims. He opens his arms.

The shark is Kravitz, emerging from the sheet to bite Taako lightly on the shoulder and the muscle of his neck, following each nip with kisses. Kravitz is humming, singing as they curl together under the silky sheet. “Tomatoes, onions, garlic, cilantro, sit deep, sit tall, ride the jalapeño…”

There’s an insistent chiming under the words. It doesn’t match, but it’s _important_ —

Taako wakes up tangled in the sheet with his heart racing, flailing for his Stone. “This better be a fuckin’ emergency,” he slurs over the line. The reply is none of the voices he expects.

_“It is, Taako, please don’t hang up.”_

The Director. He peels his eyes open; it’s still dark outside the windows. “Wh’ the fuck. You find another Relic? Can’t it wait ‘til morning?”

There’s a strained silence. _“No. Taako, wake up please. You’re not a Reclaimer anymore.”_

He realizes as she says it. What the fuck was he thinking? Startled wide awake now, he sits up in bed, taking in the shadowy bedroom he shares with Kravitz, in his house, at his school. He wipes a hand across his mouth as if he can take his sleep-addled words back; his hand is trembling. He hangs the stone around his neck, and folds his hands together in his lap. “What’s the emergency?”

 _“I just got a call from the Glamour Springs Sheriff’s office,”_ she says, and it makes his blood boil as much as it makes his gut go cold. _“Sazed’s gone missing from his cell.”_

Taako presses his face into his hands for a minute, just to breathe. Then he gets out of bed, fumbles his robe on and makes his way down the hall.

 _“Taako?”_ comes Lucretia’s voice, softer, and he covers the Stone with his hand.

“ _Shut up_ for a minute.” He pauses at the door to Lup and Barry’s room; he can hear Barry’s snoring through the door, regular and rumbling. Satisfied, he continues on to Angus’ room. The door is a little ajar, just as he left it, and when he peeks inside, Angus is curled up like a kitten and sound asleep. Taako strains his ears for a moment, just to hear him breathe.

 _“Are you...is anyone there with you?”_ Lucretia murmurs, and Taako retreats, closing the door behind him. With a touch of his fingers to the frame he tests the wards around the room and finds them holding strong.

“Barry’s here,” he replies quietly, making his way through the house. He checks the doors and the windows methodically, all locked up tight. “And Angus. Why the fuck did they call _you_? How does a prisoner just go missing?”

_“You refused to give them your Stone attunement, I was the closest contact they had.”_

“Again, why—”

 _“Taako, please. He left a Simulacrum behind; they didn’t discover it was a fake until a few hours ago, when a magic user strong enough to sense the spell came on duty. They probed it and it fell apart, reverted back to a puddle.”_ Lucretia’s voice is ticking up in pitch, and it’s making Taako’s pulse race. He tries to breathe, count each window as he checks them. _“He could have been gone for days, and they’re not sure how he got out in the first place.”_

“He’s not strong enough to cast Simulacrum, that’s a fuckin’ seventh level Illusion spell and he’s a weak-ass Evocation wizard.”

_“I can go out there and verify, but they seemed quite sure. He must have had help.”_

“Who the fuck—he’s a known murderer! And a shitty cook! He fucking _turned himself in!_ ” His voice is strained, he can hear it, though he can’t seem to tone it down; Lucretia can hear it too.

_“Do you want me to call someone? Lup? Or Magnus?”_

“Fuck no,” he snaps, finally sinking onto the couch in the living room.

_“At least let me send some guards to you, maybe Killian and Carey—”_

“It’s fi—I’m fine! You don’t get to, to fuckin’ _take care of me_ anymore, so lay off!” The silence that follows is painful; he breathes in sharply through his nose and blows out through his mouth before he breaks it. “Thanks for the heads up. But keep it to yourself.”

He can faintly hear Lucretia’s throat working over the line. _“Be careful,”_ she finally says.

“Yeah,” Taako replies, and hangs up.

He makes another round of the house, just breathing and thinking, and retreats at last to Angus’ bedroom. There’s a wide plush chair in the corner where Angus likes to read, and it’s the best vantage of both the door and the window. Taako sets up in it, legs criss-crossed, as if he could meditate.

Instead, he watches the rise and fall of Angus’ shoulders as he sleeps, and slowly lays out everything he knows, the way a detective would. He likes the picture it makes less and less the more it develops, making tentative connections that feel right but also feel a little like paranoia. He’s barely rested; being startled awake and his memory glitch with Lucretia have him rattled; it’s the darkest and spookiest part of the night. He’s tempted to call Lup, or wake Barry or even Angus to hear them confirm that he’s seeing things that aren’t there. He wants to, but...it’s bad enough how often he can’t hide the way his brain sometimes betrays him, when he’s tired or hungry or sad or something catches his eye in just the wrong way and he loses where and when he is. He doesn’t need to volunteer his crazy willingly.

And if his suspicions are right...well, he’d rather make a plan that doesn’t involve his family getting caught up in his old drama. Taako can take care of his own mind, his own life, his own _shit_ , thank you very fucking much.

He almost jumps out of his skin and launches a Magic Missile when the door creaks, but it’s only Sour Cream; the cat slips in, a white blur in the dark room, and jumps silently up onto the bedside table.

“What do you want?” Taako whispers, embarrassed; Sour Cream meeps softly at him, examines the books sitting on the table, tries to shove his whole head into Angus’ water glass, and then finally jumps to the bed and curls up on the pillow above Angus’ head. Taako sighs, slumping back into the chair. He pokes through the books on the table, because there’s no way in hell he’s getting any sleep tonight, picks an unmarked one and flips through it. It’s full of messages, letters and notes and telegrams in a hundred different unfamiliar scripts; after a long moment of confusion, Taako registers the Book of Interception. Angus left it behind, he remembers, when he went off to school—Lucas banned magical items that infringe on anyone’s privacy—but it’s usually tucked away in the bookcase. Now here it is, sitting out, and warm with magical energy. _What a snoop,_ Taako thinks, with a flicker of a smile. _Has this been catching messages all day? What is Angus hoping he’ll intercept? Some of the endless requests for personal appearances?_

Taako leafs through until he reaches the end of the messages; the most recent is a recommendation letter for the candidate he’s supposed to be interviewing tomorrow night. She’s brilliant, she’s good with kids, her specialties are blah blah blah...he ought to try to remember any of what he’s reading about her, but there are too many other things on his mind to care. He hasn’t so much as touched the pile of mail Ren left for him on the table in the office, he’s not about to read it here in Angus’ book.

He’s about to close it and put it back when it flares with warmth in his hands; opposite the recommendation letter, a new message slowly appears, line by line. This is handwriting he knows, and his whole body goes cold as it loops across the page.

_Dean of Magic_

_Taako’s Amazing School of Magic_

_Neverwinter_

_Dear Dean Taako,_

_You can’t resist plastering your name on everything you do, can you? I wonder how much of the work is really you, and how much of it is the Assistant Dean whose name doesn’t seem to be mentioned. Couldn’t fit it on the merchandise?_

_I’ve had some time to think about how we left things, and had many chats with a like-minded friend. I admit I’ve made some mistakes, but it was your mistake that started this, and your greed that ruined everything. You’re no teacher, no hero, not even a good man._

_It’s not justice, that we are where we are. It’s not fair. I’m sure you disagree, so ~~I’m~~_

_we’re_

_Yes,_ we’re _coming to visit. To chat about it, and work something out._

_See you soon._

_Sazed_

_and Eddy ~~who you murdered~~_

Taako isn’t sure how much time passes while he’s staring at the book, gripping it so hard his hands cramp. He goes away in his head, a little; after a long while, his breathing and his heart slowly come back down to something slightly less than complete panic, and he blinks his eyes to clear the spots from them. At least he has the proof that he’s not just paranoid, he thinks, and then has to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle a wild giggle. Instead, he keeps breathing, measured, counting out each inhale. Then as quietly and neatly as he can he tears the page from the book, and with a soft murmur of a spell, disintegrates it.

Taako lays the book back on the bedside table, just as he found it. He waits in the armchair in until morning, and slips out to make breakfast before Angus wakes.


	5. Chapter Five - Angus

Something is different in the morning.

Taako’s moods are changeable, and not always simple to track; Angus probably knows more of his triggers than the elf does himself, but still not all of them. He was all right last night, in comfortably high spirits, but this morning he’s tense as a bowstring.

Breakfast is already on the table when Angus comes in, sausages and eggs and tomatoes from the grill pan. That’s not unusual by itself, Taako’s often up early to cook. It’s the frenetic edge to Taako’s movements around the kitchen, pouring coffee from the percolator, wrapped up in his robe and without his glamour on. His ears twitch toward every noise, and that puts Angus on the alert more than anything.

“Good morning,” he says, sitting down in his usual place.

Taako answers without turning from the stove, sloshing cream and sugar into his mug. “Eat up, little man, we’ll hit the road as soon as you’re dressed.”

Angus takes a bite of egg, waits as long as it takes Taako to doctor his coffee and take a sip. “Did something happen?”

This time Taako looks at him. He slouches back against the counter with extremely deliberate casualness, and takes another sip of his drink. “Everything’s fine,” he lies. It might convince other people, but not Angus; still, there’s something in Taako’s face, some microexpression of his eyes that forestalls further questions. Instead, Angus just holds Taako’s gaze until the elf breaks away to charge down the hall.

Angus hears a door swing open.

“Get up and get your skull on, Barold! You’re scything us to Lucas’ office, I gotta make an _impression_.”

There’s a faint, affirmative-sounding mumble, and then the door slams shut and Taako’s footsteps continue down the hall toward his room.

***

They step through a rift in a swirl of cloaks; first Barry, skeletal and wreathed in red and black, then Taako in his most Dean-like academic robes, and finally Angus in the clothes he’d worn home three days ago and the tweed jacket with the cape in the back that Killian and Carey gave him last Candlenights.

Lucas has been startled by such a display several times before that Angus has seen, and many times Angus has only heard about. Today, unfortunately, his office is empty.

“Well, that really takes the fun out of it, huh?” Barry says after a beat of silence, his skin forming up again over his bones.

“An empty office is easier to investigate,” Angus points out, “though we should talk to Lucas and find out what exactly was stolen.”

Barry banishes his scythe—just drops it into the air and it disappears. “Kravitz interrogated him yesterday. He’s writing a paper on the possible psychological effects of crossing planes via gem mirror, best as he could tell there were three missing pages of theory on safer ways to do it. Nothing on crossing into or out of the astral plane specifically, but.” Barry shrugs. “It’s all pretty much the same theory.”

“I’ll go find him,” Taako says, lilting in a way that means he’s faking casual. “You two look around in here. Wreck his shit a little.”

Something is wrong, but Angus doesn’t have enough clues to figure it out, can’t put together a compelling case for why Taako shouldn’t go off on his own. It’s just a tingle of intuition on the back of his neck, and it makes him reach out as the elf whirls toward the door, makes him grab a handful of blue-green cloak and pull.

When Taako turns back to him, pulled up short, Angus has nothing to say that will keep him here. “Call if you find anything out?” he says instead. “Anything Lucas tells you could be helpful to the investigation.”

Taako stares at him for a drawn-out moment, then smiles for the first time all morning and reaches out to tweak his nose. “Sure, kiddo.” Then he squeezes Angus’ hand before tugging the cloak loose, and is out the door from one breath to the next.

Beside him, Barry sighs. “Yeah, he’s hidin’ something. I’ll see if Lup knows what’s up.”

“Okay,” Angus replies, though it doesn’t make the prickle of fear go away. Barry claps him lightly on the shoulder.

“Come on, let’s investigate the hell outta this joint.”

***

It’s a nice change to be investigating with someone who’s quiet, focused, and is knowledgeable about the subject matter at hand. Though Angus’ caseload has decreased immensely since starting school, he makes a mental note to invite Barry along more often in the future.

“How advanced would someone have to be to pull a soul through a gem mirror with just three pages to go on?” Angus asks as he glances through the research that remains. In spite of the break-in, it wasn’t hidden—just shoved into a filing cabinet and helpfully labelled “Mirror Research.” Possibly Lucas thought that _was_ hiding it.

Barry scratches the back of his neck, thinking. “Well, it depends. It requires some power, but not necessarily skill. Finding the right soul would be tricky, but not impossible. It’s making the mirror that’s the really hard part, it takes a pretty high level of Transmutation magic. Taako-high. Or the Philosopher’s Stone, in Lucas’ case. ”

“But if the thief stole a sapphire mirror?” Angus prods.

“Then half this school could be suspects,” Barry replies with a sigh. “It would mean Lucas has been lying about not keeping any gem mirrors from his lab, and then lying about what was stolen to cover the first lie.”

“Which is a strong possibility, given his history.” Angus goes back to leafing through the filing cabinet. “I wish he’d brought me in to investigate right after it happened. If I could have seen the scene, it would be easier to formulate some theories as to motivation, start building a profile.”

Barry looks up from Lucas’ desk, where he’s poking through messy piles of documents. “Most of the necromancers and Death criminals I’ve seen have the same motivation. They lost someone, and they can’t move on.”

It’s a solemn thought, and Angus gives it a breath of silence before he continues theorizing. “So if someone were grieving, and they found the tools to try to get their loved one back—how would they find them? Isn’t the Sea of Souls just a big...soup?”

“Sort of?” Barry answers with a shrug. “I mean, the souls start to melt into each other a bit over time. But a carrot is still a carrot, even if it’s broken up into pieces and partly stuck to a piece of celery, you know? Some souls don’t assimilate as well as others, some don’t even want to enter the Sea.”

“What happens to them?” Angus asks, intrigued now. Taako got to visit the Astral plane and see the Sea himself, but no matter how many times or which Reaper he asks, Angus still hasn’t been allowed to go.

“They get lonely, eventually,” Barry says, shifting another pile of papers, “or someone they were waiting for arrives. Like—” he pauses. “We have a few like that.” Then he holds up a folder with a crooked grin. “Check it out, your file! Anything you want to change in your permanent record?”

Angus sighs. “I’ll have to talk to Lucas about leaving student files laying around in the open….”

Barry chuckles. “Good luck. There’s a few here, wanna put ‘em away?” He passes the pile over, and Angus tugs open drawers in the cabinet until he finds the right one. His own file goes back in its place between Nemo Marder and Ariadne Meadowvalor, and he quickly files a few others. At the bottom of the pile is Runnel Bluetide, clearly pulled out for the same reason his was; it’s sorely tempting to look through the file and see how their altercation at soccer practice was recorded, make sure with his own eyes that she’s not actually expelled. Personal privacy doesn’t mean much in an investigation, after all—but perhaps it’s a bridge too far? He isn’t investigating _Runnel_ , just the room.

When he glances over a little guiltily, Barry is bent over rooting through Lucas’ desk drawers. Angus spins back around, finds the spot where the file should go. He puts his finger there to mark it, and tips the folder open, just to take a peek.

Runnel is a thirteen-year-old Water Genasi, which he knew. She’s level five and specializing in Divination, which he didn’t know. She’s suspended from soccer for two weeks, like Angus, and from school entirely for one week. They’re in the same Botany and Potion Chemistry elective, maybe he’ll offer to share his notes on what she misses, as a peace offering.

His perusal is interrupted by footsteps approaching outside—two pairs, one a stumbling shuffle, the other an angry clicking of boot heels. Angus tips Runnel’s file closed and slides it calmly into place, shutting the drawer just as the office door bursts open.

Taako shoves Lucas inside, looking both furious and triumphant. He’s got Lucas by the back of his shirt collar, and gives him a tiny shake. “Tell them what you told me.”

“All right!” Lucas shouts at the manhandling, then slumps, defeated. “All right. I, um...I didn’t report everything that was stolen. I had a sapphire mirror, and now it’s gone.” As Barry and Angus stare at him, he seems to rally, and holds up his hands. “I never used it! It was just a little one in a compact, it was just...just in case there was ever another chance, you know? But I never even opened it!”

Taako’s smile is as thin as a blade; at last he releases Lucas. “So!” he says with manic energy, “broke the case wide open!”

“Well…” Barry replies.

“We did sort of assume that was what happened,” Angus cautiously admits. At the flicker of frustration in Taako’s expression, he adds “but it’s excellent to have it confirmed!”

“Okay, Taako doesn’t need a participation prize from a literal infant,” Taako sighs with a dismissive wave. “What else did you two put together without me?”

Barry shrugs, gesturing around the room with an aggravated look. “Not much else, except that the suspect list is pretty long.”

“Power level doesn’t eliminate many people,” Angus corrects, “but they had to have the opportunity, and the skill to get the door open and leave undetected. Unfortunately any prints will be gone by now, but I can go through the staff and students’ schedules to see who could have snuck away at the time of the break in.”

“I can pull those for you,” Lucas offers, eager to cooperate; Taako and Barry shoot him eerily similar disdainful looks.

“You’re on thin ice, pal,” Barry tells him. “I’m going to have to report this. If you’ve got anything else that should be turned over to a Reaper, you should do it now—Kravitz and Lup are a lot more hardass than me.”

“I don’t have anything else, I swear! I really promise this time.”

“Then get crackin’ with those schedules, my dude.” Taako claps twice and Lucas startles into motion. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Angus has to cover a smile with his hand.

Barry reaches out into thin air and materializes his scythe. “I should get back to the Astral, fill them in.” He turns to Angus. “Call one of us if you narrow the list down any, yeah? Don’t go after anybody yourself.”

“I’ll call,” Angus promises.

***

They have lunch in the school dining hall, because Angus has a meal plan, and Taako likes to reassure himself that his own school has infinitely better food. They’ve brought with them a daunting pile of schedules to work on, and Angus leaves them with Taako at a corner table while he goes to procure them lunch from the line. Monday is grilled cheese and tomato soup; he fills a tray with double portions of food and juices and coffee, and when he returns to the table Taako has taken a chunk of their pile and set it at his side.

“I can already tell that the soup isn’t thick enough and the bread needed more butter on it,” Taako says, taking one of each from the tray. “And only one kind of cheese? Cheapskates! What do you pay all that tuition for?”

“I don’t pay any tuition,” Angus reminds him. “I won the Artemis Sterling Scholarship with my essay about the Day of Story and Song.”

“Nerd,” Taako replies with half the sandwich in his mouth. He’s already scanning the paper on the top of his pile. “You want me to just pull out the ones who could have done it?”

“Yes, once we eliminate everyone who has an alibi, I’ll go through what’s left more closely.”

They work in silence for nearly an hour, broken only by Taako’s occasional complaints about the seasoning of the soup. The pile of possible suspects slowly grows on the table between them. Angus is no stranger to investigating people and places he’s familiar with, for awhile he was even investigating the B.O.B.—but it’s still a little strange to see so many names and faces he’s come to know here while he’s trying to keep objective distance.

When Taako eventually finishes his stack, he pats the discard pile. “As, Bs, and Cs done for you. Now I’ve got to get back home and start making quiche for this interview tonight. What do you think, spinach and bacon? Purple potato and leek? Harvest vegetable?”

“Didn’t Ren say you were making mushroom and goat cheese?” Angus reminds him. As the words leave his mouth, the dream of two nights ago comes back to him unbidden: Taako sitting in his wagon, the basket of mushrooms, the looming presence at Angus’ back. The inexplicable bad feeling is back, creeping up his spine and chilling his stomach. “But I think your harvest vegetable is better, and the sweet potatoes on the top look impressive.”

Taako cracks his first real smile of the day. “Harvest veggie it is. Don’t forget to eat dinner, sub-par as it’ll be. And go to class, you delinquent.”

Sensing Taako is about to sweep grandly out, Angus hops up and hurries around the table to hug him. “Thanks for the weekend.”

Taako’s hand falls on his back, then on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently along the top of his ear. “Of course, pumpkin. Anytime.”

Then Taako bends to kiss his temple, turns out of his hold, and is gone.

***

Working through the rest of the day might help distract Angus from the uneasy feeling that’s dogging him, but he _does_ have afternoon classes. Instead, he settles for paging through the suspect pile so far, committing the names to memory. Then he drops the schedules off in his dorm room (a single, but he does have to share a bathroom with the rest of the students on his hall) and fills his satchel with textbooks and spell components instead. On his way back out the door, he almost collides with someone coming in; when he steps to the side, an apology on his lips, he sees it’s Runnel. Of course—she’s suspended from school, but she’s a boarder, like him.

She’s never been effusive or even outwardly friendly, but being on the same soccer team has gotten him a nod of acknowledgement in the past. Now, she freezes for a moment as their eyes catch—her scorched eyebrows have been fixed, mossy and thick and the left one is growing tiny shelf mushrooms at the corner—and he wonders if he’s about to be punched again. She’s taller and broader than him, but now she knows he can defend himself.

Instead, her eyes flick away guiltily and she shoves past him, disappearing down the hall. Her Stone of Farspeech is in her hand, and it flares with light as she goes. _“Nellie?”_ the voice on the other end asks.

“Shut up for a sec, Ed,” she hisses into it. “Almost back to my room.” Then she turns into the stairwell and vanishes from sight.

Maybe it’ll take more than sharing notes to make peace, though it’s promising that she seemed to be feeling remorse underneath the angry outer shell.

When Angus’ own Stone chimes in his pocket, he startles and finally makes his way outside with it. “Hello?”

 _“Angus,”_ says the Director. _“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”_

“No ma’am,” he replies, adjusting his bag and setting off across campus. “I’m just walking to class.”

 _“Taako isn’t with you, then?”_ she asks, and the flicker of tension in her tone reactivates all the internal alarm bells Angus has been trying to ignore since this morning.

“He left for home a little while ago. What’s going on?”

 _“His house at school?”_ the Director clarifies, and Angus grits his teeth.

“ _What’s going on?_ Is he in trouble?”

There’s a heavy pause over the line, and then a quiet sigh. _“It’s unclear.”_

He waits for more; when it seems no elaboration is coming, Angus steps off the path and turns away from any prying eyes criss-crossing the quad. “Please tell me what’s—”

_“Sazed broke out of jail several days ago. The Glamour Springs constabulary have no idea why or precisely when, they can only tell that he had help casting above his level.”_

Angus turns back toward his dorm, all thoughts of class forgotten. “Casting what? Does Taako know?”

_“Simulacrum, and yes, I called him—”_

“Last night,” Angus finishes. “He was jumpy this morning. Why doesn’t anyone ever _tell_ me anything?”

The Director makes a frustrated sound. _“He asked me not to tell anyone, and I have to—I’m trying to respect his wishes, generally. But I tried to call to check in on him, and he isn’t answering his Stone.”_

“He’s interviewing a professorial candidate over dinner,” Angus replies, turning things over in his head even as he jogs back toward his room. “Maybe he’s in the bath.”

 _“I’ll keep trying him,”_ she says.

“Okay, ma’am,” he replies, and hangs up without much thought; he’s in his head, laying out everything he knows.

-Sazed, who professed to have a change of heart and turned himself in, is unaccounted for. He had help leaving, or was taken from, his cell an unknown number of days ago.

-One week ago, Lucas’ office was robbed. Based on the items taken, the thief was planning an attempt to pull a soul out of the Astral Plane.

-Evidence suggests that the thief succeeded; the bounty that Kravitz, Barry, and Lup have been pursuing entered the Material Plane in Neverwinter. He should have paid more attention—he should have asked Kravitz or Barry where they’d tracked the bounty so far, if they passed near Glamour Springs, what path it’s taking, why didn’t he ask more questions—

He lets himself into the dorm mechanically, trying to focus. He has a list of suspects. He can look through them. Does Sazed really connect? Or is it a coincidence that he’s gone missing now, and Angus is getting ahead of himself? He turns down his hall, pulling his wand out of his sleeve. He has a key to his room, but he usually unlocks it with Knock or picks it by hand instead, for practice.

-There are no coincidences. _Runnel connects._

-Runnel connects, but she wasn’t in the suspect pile. Taako went through the beginning of the alphabet while they were at lunch.

-Taako left her out of the suspect pile. Taako knows Sazed is missing; he probably knows more about the Reapers’ bounty than Angus does. He knows, because Angus told him, that Runnel’s brother Eddy—Ed?—Bluetide was one of the forty who died because of Sazed’s betrayal.

-Taako left Runnel out of the pile on purpose?

Angus stops abruptly in the hall, his door only a few feet away. _Taako left Runnel out of the pile on purpose._

He drops his satchel in front of his door and turns back the other way, toward Runnel’s room.

***

The door is closed when he arrives. He creeps as close as he dares, then props himself against the wall with his Stone in his hand, adopting the air of a bored kid waiting for a friend to join him. It’s unlikely many students will be wandering the halls when classes are in session, but not impossible. As casually as he can, he tips his head toward the door.

“...didn’t mean to kill you.”

 _“Well, maybe we won’t_ mean _to kill him either.”_

Eddy’s voice is similar to Runnel’s, gravelly but high, like the scrape of a creek bottom along your feet.

 _“But we’ll see where the evening takes us,”_ adds another voice, lower and smoother. Angus has never met Sazed in person, but he feels immediately sure that Sazed is the second voice.

Runnel speaks again, hushed. “Tonight?”

_“Yeah, Sazed called the school. His secretary said he has a meeting tonight, so we’re gonna crash it. Nothing to worry about, Nellie.”_

“Yeah.”

Silence falls for a long moment; Angus can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. _Tonight. The job interview._ His grip tightens around his Stone, ready to take off, to call for help, but he waits a beat longer in the hope of hearing more.

“So,” Runnel finally says, “are you two...I mean, is it working? You’re okay, Eddy?”

It’s Sazed who answers. _“Working perfectly, Runnel. You’ll have your brother back soon.”_

Then the line goes dead, and Angus, as quietly as possible, takes off. He breaks into a jog down the stairs to the ground floor, and a full-out sprint once he’s out of the building. Part of his mind is taking stock; he’s got his wand and a little pouch of components and magical items that he wears on his belt at all times, but his crossbow is back in his room. It’s not important enough to go back for. The other part of his mind is plotting the fastest route; there’s a permanent Teleportation circle in Taako’s living room, but Angus isn’t a high enough level for that—and even if he was, he should save his spell slots for whatever he’s going to find. He decides instead to hire a carriage, waving one down when he leaves campus and hits the main road. “Taako’s Amazing School of Magic,” he tells the driver, and presses gold into his hand to ensure speed.

He catches his breath inside, unclenching white-knuckled fingers from around his Stone. He tries the Director first, and she picks up immediately.

_“Taako?”_

“It’s Angus. Taako’s in danger. Sazed’s on his way to the house. His accomplice is an escaped spirit from the Astral plane who was killed at Glamour Springs.” Angus gulps a breath, pressing his head back against the carriage seat.

It takes the Director a moment to process, but when she speaks again her voice is calm and cool. _“I’ll take a cannonball down immediately._ Do not _go in there.”_

“Ma’am—”

 _“Don’t go in there_ without me _, then.”_

“See you there.”

He tries Lup next—the Reapers can get there instantaneously—but it goes right to voicemail. No signal means she’s reporting to the Raven Queen, which probably means all three of them are.

 _“Lay it on me!”_ comes the recorded message. Out the window, Neverwinter is flying by; they’re nearing the school.

“Taako’s in trouble,” he tells the message. “Come to the house as soon as you get this.” He hangs up and tries Kravitz and Barry, but his suspicion proves correct when neither of them answer either.

When the carriage pulls up to the front gate, Angus leaps out and takes off running; somewhere ahead of him, a cannonball crashes through the trees and the ground reverberates with the impact.


	6. Chapter Six - Runnel

When Runnel Bluetide was five years old, her brother went out on a sunny summer afternoon to see a traveling show.

Their town was a small one; amusements didn’t come around very often. Runnel begged to go--anything her brother wanted to do _must_ be fun--but Eddy refused. “I babysit her all the time,” he protested to Ma, who worked long hours and strange shifts for the Glamour Springs Sheriff’s office. Eddy was fifteen, and bursting with magic, and itching with the same wanderlust that kept their father away so long.

Runnel thinks she remembers the tired slump of Ma’s shoulders that day. Ma was a fighter who’d once battled a Marid, and won both the fight and his desire; she loved him for the brief times she could have him, and all the times between. “Come home right after,” she told Eddy. “I’m on shift at nine. Come on Nellie, you can help me water the garden.”

Runnel and Ma watered, and weeded, and picked a basketful of tomatoes. At first, Runnel was angry that Eddy had left her behind doing chores, and hurt at the idea that he didn’t want to spend time with her. But she liked watering, and weeding, and plants; she got caught up in her afternoon with Ma, and forgot about Eddy.

They were making sauce for canning when Deputy Carlisle came to the door. Carlisle was Runnel’s favorite of Ma’s colleagues; they always had a sweet for her in their pocket, or a little clockwork toy they’d made. That day it was a little chick, painted yellow. “It pecks on the ground like a real chick,” the deputy explained. “Why don’t you take it out back and try it out?”

Runnel was only little, but she already knew that when other deputies came round the house, they wanted to have grown-up conversations with Ma. She took her new toy out back and wound it up, watched it peck along the perimeter of the garden, startling insects out of the grass. A long time later she heard the front door close, so she went back inside. Ma saw Runnel, and slid to her knees; she made a sound Runnel had never heard before, and will never forget as long as she lives. Terrified, Runnel ran to her room, and hid under the bed, and covered her ears.

Runnel was nine when she next spoke to her brother. It was Deputy Carlisle who taught her the spell, though they didn’t know what she would use it for. What she _could_ use it for. The deputies used Sending all the time, the ones who could, to keep each other updated without tipping suspects off. None of them had the power to Send to other planes, nor reason to, but Runnel did. She tested it first by contacting her father on the Plane of Water. It was easy, and he Sent back that he was impressed with her skill, and he might come to visit in another year or two. Encouraged by this success, she tried an innocuous Sending to Eddy: _How are you, I miss you, Love Nellie._

It took him weeks to respond. _Hard to learn new spells here,_ he explained, _but that didn’t stop me. Miss you too._

They talked every day. Runnel learned that time and space were strange on the other side, that most of the dead just sloshed around together in an endless ocean. It sounded peaceful; when she told him so, she learned that Eddy was too angry for peace. He wouldn’t join, he wouldn’t rest, he couldn’t let go of his hatred for—

They never said his name. They called him That Elf.

It hadn’t occurred to Runnel to be angry before. She grieved, as much as a little girl could, and grieved again and again as she got older and understood more and more of how the world was supposed to work, how much time and life her brother should have had. She was frustrated, because Ma was frustrated, that That Elf had run and escaped justice; she was often breathlessly and unsolvably sad that a foolish accident had changed everything in her life, her family, her town. It wasn’t until Eddy Sent to her how angry he was, how cheated he felt, how much hatred burned in his disembodied soul, that Runnel thought she might be angry too.

***

The Story changed everything, but also nothing. Runnel was eleven, and she immediately forgot much of what was blasted into her head on the Day; one mind couldn’t hold it all at once. What stuck with her was That Elf, and the way the whole world could have been lost, and the way it wasn’t.

A few days later Sazed showed up; confessed everything and turned himself in.  _Arsenic,_ all the deputies murmured amongst themselves. _That makes a heap more sense._ The Sheriff let Ma be the one to book him and lock him in a cell.

Ma took Runnel to see him when she asked, but only once. Sazed looked smaller than the old wanted posters, like he’d shrunken in on himself. He didn’t speak, and neither did Runnel, but through the bars their eyes met. When Runnel told Eddy about it later, she told him how it seemed to her—like Sazed felt sorry for himself, instead of sorry for Ma and Runnel and all the other families he’d torn apart. Eddy didn’t seem surprised. _He was only trying to kill That Elf,_ Eddy Sent. _He deserved better than he got, and he was mad about it. I get that._

Runnel had learned from her brother how to be angry; after the Day, she learned how to hold on to that coal, how to keep steady and static and unchanging as a soul that can’t find rest. _Doesn’t anybody see?_ Eddy raged when she told him about the school she was applying to in Neverwinter, and the rival school That Elf had announced. _He’s no hero. He’s selfish. He’s got no morals. He doesn’t deserve to get a happy ending._

At Eddy’s urging, she went to see Sazed on her own. She didn’t ask Ma, or Deputy Carlisle, or the Sheriff, she just walked in. Nobody paid any mind to the deputies’ kids, there were always some running around.

For almost a year while she sat on the Academy of Arcane Sciences waiting list, she passed Sendings between Eddy and Sazed. Debates, commiseration, plans. They got to know each other; by the time she finally got into AAS, they could Send to each other directly. Runnel turned thirteen, moved away to school, and didn’t hear from her brother for days at a time; she’d never felt so alone. When he did respond to her Sendings, it was with questions. _Does Lucas Miller teach about interplanar travel? Does he still do research on the Astral plane? Is his office usually locked?_

Sometimes Runnel was angry at Sazed instead of That Elf. Sometimes she was angry at her brother. But they needed her, or so Sazed Sent. _Don’t you want to have Eddy back? You’re in the perfect position to make that happen._

Runnel practiced stealth and unlocking spells. She joined the soccer team. Angus McDonald also joined the soccer team; he was surprisingly all right, for someone who’d been under the wing of That Elf. There had to be a reason, she guessed, why he was at the Academy on a scholarship instead of at That Elf’s cushy offering.

Runnel let Eddy and Sazed make their plans and guide her through them; she broke into Lucas Miller’s office, took what she needed, and didn’t get caught. It wasn’t hard, in the end, to get Eddy out; she knew his soul better than her own.

 _You’re the best sister ever,_ Eddy Sent; it was so much clearer, realer, with the glow of his soul there in front of her. _I’m going home to get Sazed. We’ll find you when we’re finished._

Runnel gave him her Stone attunement just in case, and went back to normal life: school, studying, soccer. She was angry, but no longer entirely sure who with; she was angry that she was afraid, and angry at the guilt that sat cold at the bottom of her stomach.

She lost her temper; she got expelled. Of course she did—she hit the most famous kid in the whole school, Neverwinter’s darling.

Before she had even packed up her room, Lucas Miller called her back into his office. Not expelled—suspended, at Angus’ request.

Maybe that kid really was all right.


	7. Chapter Seven - Taako

His sister is in his house when he gets home. He can tell because the moment he opens the door, he’s blasted by the furious wailing of an angry violin. He freezes, terrified for a moment that she’s had a call from Lucretia and is here to chew him out for keeping secrets, but her playing has a frustrated air; more likely she hasn’t heard about Sazed and she’s pissed because Tres Nerdy Reapers still haven’t made any progress finding the soul that broke out to help him.

Good. Taako’s gonna fix this one for them.

He kicks the door shut behind him, and Lup’s playing abruptly stops. “Taako?”

“Hey. I have three hours to get pretty and make a harvest vegetable quiche, you wanna prep for me?”

She bows a quick, annoyed arpeggio, then appears in the doorway to the family wing. “Only if I can chop the hell out of some things.”

“Always. You can rip some root veggies right out of the dirt in the garden if you want.”

“Hell yeah.” She disappears, violin case clacking shut and the back door creaking open a moment later. Maybe he can convince her to stay for dinner, see how this professor wannabe deals with both of them at once. At least while she’s taking out her anger on the vegetables, he’ll have time for a nice long shower. Better yet, a soak. He makes his way to the kitchen to throw together a dough for the crust, sets it in the icebox to chill, and is running a bath in his en suite before Lup even comes back inside.

Taako always thinks better in the bathroom. There’s something about the quiet, the isolation; he sets his Stone to silent and there’s nothing much to look at except his own sometimes dubious reflection, it gives his mind space to stretch. He considers what he knows, or thinks he knows, about Sazed: greedy, arrogant, manipulative, scheming. These are traits Taako can relate to, reasons why they did, and then didn’t, get along. Sazed can be ruthless, which isn’t always Taako’s speed, but certainly not a foreign concept. Cruel, a little. Or a lot. Crueler than Taako is comfortable being. He’ll have some kind of a plan, if he’s after payback.

It’s the Bluetide kid, the dead one, who’s the wild card. All Taako knows about him is that his living sister is a hothead, he’s got some power if he’s the one who broke Sazed out, and he must have a pretty distorted view of things if he’s convinced himself that Sazed, who actually murdered him, is a perfect partner in crime to get to Taako, who did _not_ actually murder him and _did_ actually save the entire universe.

There’s a tiny part of Taako that still feels like he deserves comeuppance; much smaller than it used to be, and he’s never been the sort to just let punishment come if he could run away from it, but the kernel of that thought is still in him somewhere. He lets it surface, turns it over in his mind to remind himself how small it is, and then dismisses it. He’s got a school to run, a lover and a kid and a family to look after.

Taako turns his mind back to Sazed, the known quantity. The creeptastic letter he sent said he wanted to work something out; Taako remembers what “working things out” with Sazed could be like.

Well, the joke’s gonna be on Sazed now, Taako’s got a fuckton more magic than he used to, and spell slots for days. Let that dipshit come.

***

Despite his bravado, later when he’s washed and dressed, the whys and wherefores still plague him. He’s sitting at his vanity, poking distractedly through his makeup case when Lup pokes her head in the door.

“I could have been naked,” he tells her with a sigh, as if that’s ever kept her from barging into his room. “Or jerking it.”

She ignores him. “Let me do your hair.”

“Fine.”

It’s soothing, having her brushing his hair out and braiding it, even when she yanks too hard. Seeing her face there in the mirror with his makes the cosmetics decisions simpler too—he pulls a wand out of the vanity drawer and reapplies his glamour. Lup watches in the mirror as his face changes, her expression deliberately neutral. They argued about the glamour only once, right after she got her body back; in the year since, she’s refrained from trying to assure him he doesn’t need it or bully him into healthier self-worth.

Instead, she frees one hand from his hair to pinch his cheek. “My handsome big brother,” she quietly coos, and he slaps her hand away.

“So you finally admit it!”

“Yep. You are the handsomer one.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Lup laughs, and twists a handful of little braids around into a bun. Then she pauses, frowning, and tugs; Taako yelps at the pull on his scalp.

“Hachi machi, easy!”

“Taako,” she sighs, “you _just_ washed your hair, why is there a random piece of string stuck in it? Dingus.”

When she tugs again and it twinges harder, he claps a hand down over hers. “Ow! It’s caught or something, just leave it. I gotta get that quiche made.”

“How is it you have your own goddamn interplanar fashion line and you’re still such a mess,” she gripes, but it’s fond, and she wraps the offending thread around his bun.

“A _hot_ mess,” he corrects, painting a shiny coat of lip gloss onto his mouth. “Everybody underestimates a hot mess.”

***

When they return to the kitchen, he finds everything laid out. Lup doesn’t usually go for the _mise en place_ , she cooks by memory and feel; the precise setup of bowls on his kitchen island tells him, again, her state of mind. He’s been so absorbed in his quiet plans, so focused on the outcome—he forgot that she doesn’t know it’s going to turn out all right. He takes her hand and squeezes it before going to the icebox to get the pie crust dough.

“You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”

She slumps onto a stool at the island, not directly in his way, but close enough to make him work around her. “This bounty doesn’t make sense. There’s something we’re missing, and I can’t figure out what it is, and it’s pissing me off. Sometimes we get a trace on them, and then they disappear, and move around, and pop up somewhere else. They know they’re being chased, everybody fucking knows about reapers these days, and I don’t like this new piece with Lucas’ school. It’s too fucking close to Angus, and I _know_ he’s investigating.”

Taako reaches past her for the rolling pin, starts working into the dough to stave off the anxious bubble forming in his guts. “He’ll be fine.”

“Bad enough he got in that fight because of us, I don’t want reaper bullshit coming down on him too.”

“He’ll be _fine_ ,” Taako repeats, too forcefully; he folds the dough over the hole he’s torn in it and rolls it out again. He can feel Lup’s eyes on him for a long moment; then she sighs, and starts cracking the eggs into a bowl.

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I stop worrying about him. At least he didn’t inherit any of your…” she waves a vague hand at him.

He flops the dough into the pie plate, less gently than he meant to but it holds together. “My what?”

“Sometimes you do stupid shit.”

“Yeah, well, so do you. And he can’t inherit anything from me, he’s not biologically—”

Lup sets into the egg mixture with a whisk. “He looks up to you. Apparently that’s what kids do when they have adult role models.”

“I’m an excellent role model,” Taako argues. “Now shut up and pass me that cheese. Angus will be _fine_.”

Lup bumps him lightly with her shoulder with a flash of a smile on her face, like she knows something he doesn’t and she’s graciously not teasing him about it. “Okay, okay. The power of positive thinking. Got it.”

***

They retreat to the living room with popcorn while the quiche is baking, Taako sitting upright on the couch like a person with decorum, Lup and Biscuit (her favorite of the cats) draped across his lap. Biscuit is purring like a battlewagon, which is a neat trick for a skeletal ghost cat; he suspects the sound is actually her ribs rattling together to express her satisfaction. Lup sends a lazy Mage Hand to flick on the interplanar radio Joaquin sent him last Candlenights; it only gets signals from the Plane of Thought so far, but Taako has _plans_. Someday every home in the universe will have a Taako™ brand radio, and then a Taako™ brand TV, and he’ll be bigger than fantasy Oprah.

She slides through the stations until she hits the classical, then fumbles blindly for the popcorn until he sighs and moves the bowl to her hand. “If you’re so worried about this bounty, shouldn’t you be, you know, looking for them?”

“Mandatory rest time, you know the rules. Bird Mom’s been cracking down, she thinks your boyfriend works us too hard.”

“You gonna stay and scare the shit out of my interviewee?”

“Maybe. Could be fun. I could take credit for the quiche that mostly I made.”

“Lies.”

They lapse into comfortable quiet, the music low and lyrical under the crunching of the popcorn. Lup stretches, then Biscuit does; Taako scratches both of their heads. This is exactly the domestic peace he’s trying to secure, and he fixes it in his mind to bring up later, when he’s succeeded and Lup inevitably finds out about what he’s done.

He doesn’t realize he’s humming along to the music until one little progression sends him off-course, into the recipe song that he still can’t quite remember. He hums a bit of it, hoping the words will come to him with a fresh mind, but the radio is too distracting.

Lup, dozing off against his legs, makes a questioning sound. “Dijyou save me some Abrazo?” she slurs into his knee.

“In the icebox,” he tells her. “Do you...do you remember the fucking song? I’ve been trying, and it’s just not all there.”

“It’s been like, two hundred plus years since I needed the song to make it,” she says, turning to look up at him. “I don’t think I remember either. That’s normal.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he repeats. “Hey, I started teaching Angus how to ride. We made up a song for that.”

“Sing it t’me,” she mumbles, snuggling back into his legs and Mage Hand-ing the radio volume down.

“It’s kinda dumb.”

She smacks his shin. “Sing it.”

“Bully,” he says, and obliges.

***

The quiche is out, the table set in the guest dining room, the radio moved strategically to both impress the candidate and provide background music, and Taako’s just hanging up his egg-spattered apron when the doorbell rings.

“Ten minutes early,” Lup says with a grin. “Eager.”

“Just a minute!” Taako trills into the Stone that connects to the front door; it won’t open for a stranger until he unlocks it with a voice command, or goes to get it himself. He turns back to Lup. “You staying? Oh, you have a…”

She reaches into her hair when he points, and pulls out a raven feather, twirling it in her fingers with a regretful smile. “Breaktime’s over, Bird Mama calls. Have fun, try not to be too much of an ass.” She squeezes him and kisses his cheek, then shoves him in the direction of the door; he can hear the planes split under her scythe behind him.

“Bird Mama this, Bird Mama that,” he mutters as he undoes the locks, then pulls on his best Dean of Magic smile and swings it open.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, _I’m an idiot_ ; then everything goes black.

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Taako wakes to the familiar smell of cedar and a feeling like cotton in his mouth and throat. He has a sense that things will hurt if he moves, so he stays still; the impression of a face is swimming behind his eyes, a woman he can’t quite put a name to. It feels like he’s dreamt about her before, but when he tries to focus on her, his head throbs and his heart flutters frantically. He tries to remember what he was doing last. Cooking? That’s usually a safe bet. He was cooking with someone, he thinks, something a little fancy. He takes a deeper breath; cedar again, and yes, cooking smells. Roasted meat, garlic, maybe thyme. White wine, a bit; maybe he’s hungover? Maybe he was drinking with that woman. She must be a friend, but Taako doesn’t have friends; she must have money.

Slowly, he cracks his eyes open. Everything’s blurry, but he’d know the inside of his own wagon anywhere; he’s tucked into his bedroll, on the floor instead of his cupboard bed at the front end. Was he so drunk he couldn’t get up the ladder?

Wait, wasn’t he making a quiche? And where’s that woman?

“Taako?” Sazed asks, and a shadow falls over him. “Are you awake?”

“Whrishe?” he slurs, trying to sit up; he was right, moving hurts, especially his head. “Th’t woman…”

Large hands press him back down to the bedroll. “Who?”

“Thought she was here.”

“Stay still, you hit your head when you passed out. Gods, I thought you were going to die. Taako, what do you remember? How do you feel?”

Taako squeezes his eyes shut and submits, lying still as his heart and head pound in time together. “Thirsty. I was...cooking?”

“Here.” An ice cube is pressed to his lips; he opens his mouth to take it, turning painfully on his side. “That’s right, you were cooking. We had a show. There was an accident.”

“A show?” Taako opens his eyes again; Sazed is leaning down into his space, watching him intently. “Where are we?”

“Glamour Springs. You made your Thirty Garlic Clove Chicken. Do you remember?”

 _You fed them their deaths_ , comes a voice in his mind, fleeting.

_What the fuck does that mean?_

“What happened?”

“You...I think you transmuted the elderberry garnish into—”

“Nightshade,” Taako finishes. He _knows_ this; something is wrong, but he knows this.

Sazed retreats a little, and he’s easier to focus on that way, crouching on the floor, expression worried and maybe a little put out. “Yes. You kept sampling things as you were cooking, I wasn’t really...I was in the storage wagon. You must have eaten some before you gave it out, I heard screams and when I came back you’d thrown up and passed out, hit your head on the counter pretty hard going down. The audience was all in a panic, I sent them away.”

“Didn’t give them refunds, did you?”

“No. I was a little busy trying to keep you from dying.”

“Yeah?” Taako replies, and tries to sit up again. He’s sticky with cold sweat, he now notices, draws the blanket around himself.

“I gave you some of that charcoal stuff you keep in the kit. You were out for a while though.” Sazed puts a hand to Taako’s forehead. “At least the fever’s broken.”

Something about this isn’t right, but Taako can’t put his finger on what. Glamour Springs...has he done a show here before? “Nobody else ate it?”

“You passed out before they could. Thank the gods, can you imagine? There were kids in that audience.” There’s something harsh in the way Sazed says it, something unlike him; when Taako tries to focus on the blur of his face, he looks almost angry.

“But they’re okay,” Taako says slowly, testing out the idea. It sounds wrong. He should be glad nobody ate his poisoned food, shouldn’t he? “Why are you pissed?”

“I just...I can’t believe you did something so _stupid_. All your fucking fancy showoff spellwork. What if you’d killed all those people? If you’d have let me be part of the show, maybe I would have seen it.”

“Not this again,” Taako groans, pressing his face into his hands. “Can I go back to sleep? I think I was having a nice dream. There was this woman, and a cat, and...I can’t remember now. A big house, I think, and somebody living there with me…”

Sazed snorts. “That’s a dream, all right. I’m the only one who’s ever stuck around with you.”

“I taught you everything you know,” Taako protests, but it’s weak. He doesn’t really care right now. His head is swimming, and the dream comes back in tiny, pleasant, baffling flashes. A handsome man with red eyes, smiling at him. An excited child. That woman, and others, glimpses of red at the corners of his eyes. A family.

Sazed’s right. The dream couldn’t be further from his actual life.


	8. Chapter Eight - Angus

Angus and Lucretia reach the edge of Taako’s yard at the same time. She’s in what Angus has come to know as her fieldwork clothes, a dark and slim-cut tracksuit with the BOB logo embroidered on the breast. Her staff is in her hand, and she has a hard look on her face that Angus remembers well from his stint at the Bureau, a look that suggests she doesn’t like how the situation is being handled and she’s stepping in to do it herself. It makes Angus feel both unreasonably guilty and reassured.

“You have your wand?” she asks first, and Angus brandishes it.

“Yes ma’am.”

“How much do you know about the soul Sazed is working with?”

Angus searches his memory. “Not much. Eddy Bluetide, he was a water genasi, his sister goes to school with me. She’s level five now, he was likely higher when he died, especially if he’s the one who cast the Simulacrum. I heard him talking to her on her Stone, and Sazed too, I’m assuming they’re sharing Sazed’s body.”

Lucretia nods slowly, taking this in. “Yes, as I understand it, loose souls can’t really do much. If he was speaking, and he intends to fight, he’d need a container of some kind.”

“What I’m not sure of is their connection. How exactly they came up with this plan, and who wants what. It’s possible one or the other is more in control, Eddy using Sazed for a vessel, or Sazed using Eddy for his spellcasting power. I don’t know exactly who we’ll be fighting, when we find them.”

“Enough to know that it might be either, or both,” Lucretia replies. “I imagine the rest will become clear shortly.” Then she starts forward to the path that leads to the door, so overgrown that the door isn’t even visible yet on the other end of it. Angus falls in behind her, wand at the ready, until she stops short with a surprised “Ah, excuse me. Can I help you?”

Coming back down the path from the house is a halfling woman in a smart tweed skirt suit and flowered hat, a briefcase in her hand. “I’m here for an interview with the Dean,” she explains, smoothing the front of her jacket down, “but he doesn’t seem to be at home. He must’ve gotten the times mixed up, he did change things around rather last minute.” She offers a jovial sort of smile, and extends a hand. “Candice Hazelburrow.”

Lucretia, caught by surprise, shakes her hand. “A pleasure. I’m Lucretia—“

“Oh yes, I know,” Candice replies. “When you do talk to the Dean, would you mind letting him know I was here at the time agreed?”

“Did you hear anything from inside when you knocked?” Angus asks. “Did you try a few times?”

Candice turns and blinks at him. “No sound whatsoever, and yes, I did in fact try a few times.”

“Miss Hazelburrow,” Lucretia says, some of her hard composure coming back. “We have reason to believe an intruder has entered the house. I need you to please get clear of the property. Have you been to the campus before?”

“Y—yes, I’ve had a few meetings with Assistant Dean Mol’diira—“

“Good. I need you to find her, and tell her to summon help immediately.”

“Of course,” Candice replies, spine straightening, unable to resist the Madam Director voice. Then, with one hand on her flowered hat, she takes off in the direction of the faculty building.

It would be a little funny, if Angus wasn’t worried out of his mind. Instead, he follows Lucretia up the walk, under all the dipping limbs of the flowering trees that line it, until the door is in sight. The carved birds above the door open their beaks, ready to sing out; Angus was waiting for this, and quickly casts Silence on them. Lucretia gives an approving nod, and Angus wonders what the birds sing for her, or if they’re only reacting to his approach. Either way, it unlocks itself; though he can’t hear the click inside the area of effect of his spell, when Lucretia turns the knob, it swings obligingly open.

They enter slowly, staff and wand drawn, respectively; there’s nobody visible in the entryway or through the doorways they can see. Angus looks for signs of a struggle, and doesn’t find any. Everything’s as neat as a pin, no blood, no knocked over hat stand, not even an unfamiliar footprint on the parquet.

When they step outside the Silence spell, the house remains eerily quiet; there’s a clock ticking somewhere, probably the one in the office, but otherwise there’s no sound at all.

“Could they have taken Taako somewhere else?” Angus whispers.

“Possible,” Lucretia replies in kind. “We’ll search.”

Room by room, they clear the house; first the guest spaces, where a Harvest Vegetable quiche is going cold on the dining room table and a bottle of wine sits unopened in an ice bucket, then the inner, family spaces, where the normal clutter of a lived-in home seems perfectly ordinary. The cats are nowhere in evidence, Angus notes, but that’s not itself unusual; they do like to hide until they decide it’s time for food or petting, and Taako likely would have fed the corporeal ones before his dinner was supposed to start. That suspicion is confirmed by two bowls licked almost-clean in the family kitchen.

They go through the bedrooms, and every one that comes up empty just leads them further down the hall to the master bedroom at the back of the house. The knot of fear in Angus’ chest tightens as they get closer; the whole situation is terrifying, but to find Taako in peril in his own bedroom feels like the worst possible outcome.

Lucretia opens the door with her mouth pursed, ready to cast, placing herself between the room and Angus; when she straightens and opens the door further, it’s clear there’s once again no one inside. Angus steps up beside her to look, and there, in the middle of the floor, is the Pocket Spa.

“Is this usually here?” she asks softly, and Angus shakes his head.

“He puts it away when he’s not using it. That’s...that’s where he goes to be by himself, I’m not allowed to go in unless it’s an emergency. He wouldn’t have it just sitting around while he’s hosting a guest.”

Lucretia circles the tent that forms the outside of the Spa, taps it lightly with investigative spells. “It’s absolutely blazing with illusion magic,” she murmurs.

“The inside is a pocket dimension, not an illusion,” Angus replies, and Lucretia nods.

“I suspect this is the genasi’s doing, as was the Simulacrum.”

If there was ever an emergency moment to enter the Pocket Spa without permission, this would be it. “If the inside is an illusion,” Angus says as he steps up to the tent flap, “then whatever it is, Taako must believe it.” He taps the flap with his wand to Knock it open. Another spell pulls back under his, but doesn’t fully dissipate. “Arcane Lock, I think,” he whispers. “It’s open, but not for long.”

Lucretia nods. “Stay behind me,” she tells him in her Director voice, and pulls back the flap just enough to look inside. Desperate to see, Angus peeks in from under her arm. It’s...not the Pocket Spa. Not at all how it looked the few times he was invited in for hot tub time and cucumber sandwiches on a wintry day. It’s a small room, mostly kitchen, with a cupboard bed high up at the opposite end. It smells of cedar. Angus knows it immediately—the Sizzle it Up wagon. And there at the other end of it is Taako, sitting glassy-eyed and shivering on a bedroll, with Sazed crouched down beside him. There’s a cut on Taako’s temple with a lump forming underneath it, bleeding sluggishly down the side of his face, and he’s startlingly pale beneath two bright spots of fever on his cheeks.

“—got some healing potion from the town cleric,” Sazed is saying, one hand on the back of Taako’s neck, the other holding an apothecary bottle up to his mouth. Taako tips his head back, eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t drink that!” Angus shouts, and Lucretia tears the flap open and strides into the illusory room. In one breath she Magic Missiles Sazed away from Taako, and Angus is beside him the next; a glowing shield bubbles up around them as Sazed gets to his feet.

“He’ll get what he deserves,” Sazed rages, and another voice speaks with him; even through the glimmer of the shield Angus can see that Sazed’s eyes have a wild look and a blue glow. Eddy Bluetide is definitely in there.

Lucretia doesn’t engage in banter; she launches another spell at him, at them, and a fight begins in earnest. Angus isn’t strong enough to break out of her shield to help, so he turns back to Taako instead, who has scrambled as far away as he can, clutching his head and feeling around for his wand.

“Who are you? What’s going on? Were you in the audience or something?” he says, slurred and trembling, and Angus shoves down a sharp stab of panic. This isn’t the first time he’s seen Taako confused by his memories, or untethered from the present, but it never gets easier to watch. He tucks his wand into his sleeve and holds up his hands.

“I’m a friend. Taako, it’s okay. You know me. You might not remember right now, but you know me.”

Taako shakes his head, wincing. “I don’t...I don’t think so. Who is she, why is she attacking my roadie?” When a search doesn’t turn up his wand, Taako just holds his hand out to protect himself instead; tears start sliding down his face, though he doesn’t seem to know that he’s crying. It’s awful, it’s _awful_ , and Angus tries to keep his own face and voice calm and friendly.

“She’s your friend too. That’s Lucretia. I’m Angus. We’re here because Sazed hurt you.”

“He didn’t—I fucked up the food. I ate my own bad food,” Taako argues, but his eyes flick back and forth between Angus and the fight happening outside the shield, trying to process. This close to him, Angus notices his teeth and tongue are stained purple. A quick glance at the cooking surfaces reveal a platter of roasted chicken and sauce, and springs of berries plucked clean. “Nightshade,” Taako says, following Angus’ eyes. “He said the fever broke. It’s fine.”

“You didn’t cause that,” Angus tells him, slow, calm. “Sazed hit you and knocked you out, and gave it to you. He’s trying to trick you. This isn’t the first time he’s tried to hurt you.”

Taako swallows, then again and again, compulsively. Angus wishes he had water in here with them. He wishes he had a healing potion; the bottle Sazed dropped is on the floor outside the shield, spilled, and Angus suspects it was arsenic anyway. He reaches out, slowly, and Taako doesn’t quite recoil, but he seems to curl even smaller. “He didn’t—he’s just an asshole. I can take care of myself. I just keep him around to do the heavy shit.” He doesn’t protest as Angus takes his hand, and slides closer to press their hands together to Taako’s forehead.

“He lied about the fever, for sure,” Angus says, “feel that? Let me get you out of here, we’ll find some help.” Taako’s eyes lock with Angus’, and he goes very still; Angus can sense the struggle happening in his mind, trying to make sense of all the pieces through the magic and delirium working on him.

Then, in one smooth motion, Taako pulls Angus’ wand from his sleeve and shoves him back, Blinking out without a word.

“Taako!” Angus shouts, a useless reflex, but he’s already counting in his head. Taako can Blink for a minute tops, in his current condition maybe less. Outside the bubble, there are shouts and flashes of spells. Lucretia is infinitely more than a match for Sazed and Eddy in magical ability, but they’re pushing her athletically and Angus can see she’s breathing hard. It occurs to him as he watches her launch another spell that she’s trying not to kill them—but they’re definitely trying to kill her.

Then Taako pops back into the plane directly in front of the shield bubble, leaning back against it to keep himself upright and blocking Angus’ view. With one sharp gesture of his arm, Lucretia’s staff and Sazed’s wand both fly out of their hands, clattering at Taako’s feet.

“Time out!” he screeches, sounding at the end of his rope. “Both of you fuckers just stand still for a second and tell me _what is going on!”_ Angus scrambles as far to the side of the bubble as he can, trying to see past Taako’s legs; Lucretia has her hands raised, face calm, but Sazed looks like he’s seething.

“Taako,” he says through gritted teeth. “This woman broke into our wagon and attacked me while you were incapacitated. I think what’s happening should be pretty clear, even to you.”

“I’m trying to protect you, Taako. You know me, I can tell by the look on your face. You can’t quite remember right now, but you do. You’re a very powerful wizard, Taako, and you have a sister and a family who love you—“

“What about _my_ family?” Sazed shouts, voice cracking, except it’s Eddy’s voice coming out of his mouth. Sazed jerks forward, then freezes, then jerks forward a little again as they fight for control. “You took me away from my sister, why should you get to have yours?” In the internal struggle for Sazed’s body, something finally gives; they dart forward with sudden speed, slamming Taako back against the shield bubble.

At the moment of impact there’s a flash of magic Angus can’t identify, maybe not even a spell, just a concentrated explosion of power, and then Sazed slides slowly to the ground, a dead weight. The room seems to wobble around them, but the illusion still holds. Taako tries to shove Sazed away with his foot, unable to muster the strength to actually move him, and Lucretia sweeps in to press her fingers to his neck. “Still alive,” she murmurs, “but probably not for long.”

Taako laughs, breathless and hysterical, pressing back against the shield bubble. “Okay.”

“I’m going to take that shield down,” she says, slowly reaching for her staff, “and we’re going to get you some medical attention.”

“Okay,” Taako says again, and as the bubble slides away Angus presses up close behind him to prop him up.

“I’ve got you, sir.”

“You’re a literal infant,” he replies, a frightening slur to his words. He sinks to his knees, leaning into Angus. “I think you were in my dream. I had this...this fever dream, I was in space, and an umbrella was my sister, and I threw you off a train.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Angus says, shifting to support him as he slumps. “I’m real. That’s your real life.”

“Doesn’t seem right.” Taako’s shivering grows more violent, and his eyes slip closed; either he’s decided he’s safe, or he’s struggling to stay conscious. There’s blood smeared on his shirt—Sazed’s—and a fresh trickle from the wound on his temple.

“Yesterday,” Angus tries, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it to the cut, “yesterday you taught me how to ride a horse. You made up a song about it. Remember? ‘Sit deep, sit tall. Let your legs hang freely…’ um... shit.” Angus hums the tune, trying to remember the words Taako made up for him; he knew them yesterday, but in his panic now they’ve gone.

“Caleb Cleveland,” Taako murmurs. “That’s not a riding song, that’s a Caleb Cleveland song. Angus fucking loves that song.”

“Yes! Yes, I do,” Angus says, frantic. “Taako, it’s me, it’s Angus, can you see me? Do you remember?”

Loose-necked as a doll, Taako rolls his head in Angus’ direction, his eyes barely open. “Pumpkin?” he rasps.

“It’s me. Stay awake. Stay awake a little longer, okay?”

Around them, the illusion of the wagon wobbles again and then cracks apart, vanishing; behind it is the familiar interior of the Pocket Spa. To their left the hot tub steams invitingly beside the lap pool, lined with lounge chairs and a wide plush chaise. To the right are cushioned massage tables, and a bar stocked with drinks and tea sandwiches. It’s completely incongruous with the situation as Taako slumps even heavier against him and Sazed continues to bleed onto the floor, but as Angus looks around he remembers. “Restoratives!”

Lucretia, who’s pressing buttons on her Stone and holding a towel to the wound in Sazed’s chest almost begrudgingly, snaps her head up. “What?”

“Taako keeps health potions in one of the cabinets, in case someone faints in the hot tub.” Hands full with Taako, he gestures with his chin to the wall of cupboards behind the bar. “Back there.”

Lucretia strides over to search, her Stone chiming as she goes. “ _I talk now? Okay. Hi, you’ve reached Earl Merle Hitower Highchurch. Leave a message and I’ll call ya back! Wait, do I know how to do that?_ ”

“He never picks up!” she mutters, ending the call, and shoves aside towels and massage oils and extra candles in her search for the restoratives. A moment later she’s hurrying back with a little box in her hands, filled with multicolored vials.

“Taako gives me the green one sometimes,” Angus offers, and the elf stirs against his shoulder.

“Purple’s for...big people,” he says, slow and barely awake.

Lucretia uncaps the purple one and holds it to his mouth, tipping his head back to help him swallow it. “You’re an idiot,” she tells him as he drinks; his eyes are closed, but he scowls.

“He really is,” another voice agrees, and then Sazed—Eddy—jerkily rises to his feet. He moves like something undead, stilted and ungainly, and his eyes have that blue glow back.

In an instant, Lucretia has a new shield up around all three of them; with a roar Eddy slams Sazed’s arms against it as if he can break through with rage alone. Angus can’t help but flinch back from the display, even though he trusts the shield’s strength, and he tugs his wand back from Taako’s hand.

Taako, with the potion working at last, sits up a little to get an arm around Angus’ shoulders. “Fuck,” he groans, “my fucking head. Angus, hand me the blue one?” Angus passes the vial over, and Taako drinks this one down himself. “How we gonna get out of here?”

Lucretia tears her eyes away from Eddy, still screaming incoherently and throwing Sazed against the shield. “That body’s going to give out pretty soon.”

Taako tosses the empty vial away. “Good.”

“The militia will want to question him,” Angus protests, unsure, and Taako pulls him closer, turning him away from the grisly view.

“Did either of you call Kravitz?”

“I left them all messages.”

“Then there won’t be anything left to question,” Taako replies, voice hard. “Both those fuckers out there are going straight to the Stockade, once the cavalry gets here.” Then he sighs, patting the back of Angus’ head. “They’re gonna be _pissed_.”

As if Taako’s words made it happen, the door at the far end of the Spa slams open—but when Angus turns to look, it’s not the cavalry—it’s Runnel Bluetide.

“Eddy!” she cries, rushing into the room. “Eddy, I don’t think you should kill him! I don’t think it’s right!”

Slow and jerky, Eddy straightens up from the shield bubble, leaving smears of blood behind. “It’s not right?” he says, turning toward Runnel. When she sees him she stumbles back, clapping a hand to her mouth to hold in a scream. “What was all this for, then?” Eddy asks, and takes a wobbly step toward her. “We planned this for ages!”

“I know!” she shouts back, pressed up against the wall. “I just...it doesn’t make sense, Ed. I missed you, and I wanted you back, and I was angry, and you told me who to be angry at, but I don’t think you’re right.”

“That so?” he says, taking another step towards her. Angus reaches out, grabs Lucretia’s arm.

“He won’t hurt her, will he?” he hisses.

Lucretia’s fingers tighten around her staff. “No. He won’t.”

“I think,” Runnel starts, then swallows, and starts again. “I asked Ma once if she missed you, Eddy, and she said of course she did, but that we had to move on and keep living. I think you have to move on, Eddy. You’ve done enough.”

“I thought you were with me on this!” Eddy yells, but even as he starts moving toward her again, the Spa door slams open once more. Through it, at last, pour three angry Reapers in full skeletal regalia.

Taako sighs, slumping again. “Fucking finally.”

“Taako!” Lup cries, rushing straight to the bubble encasing them. Lucretia lets the bubble drop and Lup is on them the moment it does, patting Taako down frantically even as he feebly tries to slap her hands away. “We need Merle.”

“On it,” Barry calls, and portals away.

Kravitz takes in the room, scythe in hand, eyes burning in his skull like heated coals; his gaze pauses on Taako, assessing, then returns to the gruesome near-corpse before him. He opens his book. “Eddy Bluetide, Runnel Bluetide. Sazed, no surname,” he drawls in his work accent, “you have committed unlawful acts of necromancy, and will be punished under the auspices of the Raven Queen.”

At last Angus tears himself away from Taako and the clutch of Lup’s arms; he steps forward, carefully out of Eddy’s range, wand in hand. “Mr. Kravitz, I would appreciate as much mercy as you can allow for the Bluetides. I think they need help, not punishment.”

Kravitz pauses; his coal-eyes flick back to Taako, awake but pale in Lup’s arms. “Angus. Are you all right?”

“Yes sir,” he replies. He glances over at Runnel, who has sunk to the floor, clearly terrified. “I’m angry. But I suspect it’s Sazed who’s at the root of all this, really. Based on what I know of his past actions and what I’ve seen tonight, he’s good at manipulating people, and gets violent when it doesn’t work.”

“Nobody manipulated me—” Eddy protests; Sazed’s body twitches toward Angus, and Angus has barely taken a step away when Kravitz’ scythe whooshes over his head. Sazed’s body falls a long moment later, in two pieces.

Across the room, Runnel muffles a scream into her hands and hides her face in her knees; Angus hurries across to her. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, he won’t hurt you.”

Kravitz looks from the body to Runnel to his book, and then straight at Angus. His bare skull is impossible to read, and for just a moment, Angus is a little bit afraid.

Then Barry portals back in with Merle in tow. “I hope I’m not here for that guy,” Merle says, regarding the body on the ground, and the tense moment is broken.

Kravitz sighs, pained, and Angus can definitely read the tired slump of his shoulders. “All right. But Sazed, at the very least, will go to the Stockade.” With one swing of his scythe in the air above the body, a soul, glowing yellow, lifts up and is blasted away. Then Kravitz cuts a small portal; through it, Angus can see what looks remarkably like a Department of Magical Vehicles office. “Eddy Bluetide will still be punished. He’ll remain in the Stockade waiting room until such time as a family member passes on to claim him and escort him to the Sea.” He cocks his head at Angus. “Satisfactory?”

“Very,” Angus replies.

“Taako?” Kravitz asks, turning toward him.

Taako waves a limp hand as Merle batters him with healing spells. “Whatever.”

“Very well. Miss Bluetide?” She lifts her head the barest bit; Angus lays a hand on her shoulder, hoping to steady her. She doesn’t flinch away from him, at least. Kravitz’ voice softens. “Does that sound acceptable to you?”

“I...I guess so,” she replies into her knees.

At last Kravitz turns back to the bisected body, drawing Eddy’s soul up out of it with the tip of his scythe and carefully herding him through the tiny portal. The hole closes up after him, and Kravitz shuts his book with a click. “Miss Bluetide, I believe I can allow mortal justice to suffice for you. I believe your headmaster and the Neverwinter militia will have something to say about it.”

“Yes sir,” Runnel chokes out.

“Don’t suppose we can get rid of this until the militia have been in, huh?” Barry says, poking at the body with his foot.

“No, Barry, you may not use it for—”

“I wasn’t going to ask, I meant because of the kids! Let’s at least get everybody out of here.”

Angus lets Barry and Kravitz escort Runnel out of the Spa, and Lucretia follows after with Merle already using what’s likely his last spell slot on her.

Taako is on his feet, an arm slung over Lup’s shoulders. “You okay, Angus?” he asks. He looks actually lucid now, if exhausted, and some of the color is back in his face. Angus nods, not trusting his voice, and runs to him.

***

The cleanup seems to take forever. Taako needs more healing spells, and rest; he stays curled up in his bed with Lup on one side and Angus on the other, drowsy with trauma and magic. The militia come to take statements and leave with Runnel in tow. Once she’s gone and Sazed’s body taken away, Kravitz at last puts his flesh back on and joins them, kissing Taako’s eyes and cheeks and mouth and rubbing Angus’ back. Merle calls Magnus and Davenport and Ren to fill them in on what happened; Lucretia and Barry together disappear back into the Spa, probably to clean it up. Angus wonders if Taako will even want to keep it.

The bed isn’t really big enough for three adults and a child, but that’s never stopped anyone in his family before, and won’t stop them now. Taako drifts in and out of sleep, sometimes with a start, sometimes just a groggy blink of his eyes; he takes stock of the room, and of each of them, before closing his eyes again.

***

The morning is better. Lup leaves to make them breakfast, brings it back to bed on a tray. They get Taako upright, and he eats a waffle while staring at them all, quiet, as if he knows his sister and his boyfriend are both waiting for the moment he seems recovered enough for a tongue-lashing.

Angus, being a flesh boy with a boy-sized bladder, finally has to crawl out of the warm pile. He uses the bathroom, brushes his teeth and washes his face and changes his clothes, and calls Lucas Miller to excuse himself from a few more days of classes.

By the time he comes back, Taako is sitting up in bed with his arms folded around himself, looking both insulted and chastised, and Lup has clearly been angry-crying. The air seems clearer now, at least; even Kravitz, who’s been tense since last night, has loosened his posture a little. Were they just waiting for him to leave? Adults, even his favorite adults, can be so extremely frustrating.

“I’m sorry,” he says, not about to lose his chance to say what’s weighing on him. “I should’ve figured it out sooner. Even with you trying to keep it from me.”

Taako opens his arms, and Angus doesn’t try to resist, just crawls carefully into his lap. “You figured it out exactly at the right time. Thanks for calling reinforcements.”

Lup sniff-chuckles on one side of them; on the other, Kravitz muses, “yes, we ought to call and check on the Director once you’re up and about.”

“Please,” Taako groans, “it’s bad enough she saved my ass. Can I not just have a few more nag-free naps with my kid? Have I not earned that?”

Angus flushes warm and laughs into Taako’s shoulder; a careful thumb rubs along the top of his ear.

“Bro, he’s not an elfling.”

“Shut up, who cares,” Taako says, and doesn’t stop. “Ango, are you _really_ sure you still want to go back to that wack school?”

Angus presses in closer. “I could be open to negotiation.”


	9. Chapter Nine - Runnel / Taako

Runnel tells the militia everything. There’s no point in lying or holding back anymore; it’s almost a relief to tell someone, _anyone_ , what her life has been since she cast that first Sending across the planes. She knows from Ma how these things work--she’ll never go back to the Academy of Arcane Sciences, she’ll have a rap sheet that follows her all her life, but she’s still a kid. If she cooperates, they might go easy on her, and maybe, eventually, things will be okay.

Ma comes out from Glamour Springs, which Runnel expected. Deputy Carlisle comes too, which she didn’t. She spends a lot of time in a holding cell waiting for trial, but Ma and Carlisle are both there every time she’s allowed visitors.

Maybe because Ma is in law enforcement, or maybe because of the Birds, Runnel is tried just three weeks later. The whole thing has been kept out of the news, she’s told; the jurors look shocked when Lucas Miller and Angus McDonald and then the Director of the Bureau of Benevolence take the stand.

Taako is never called, and never appears in the room. 

Runnel gets a year, in the end, for theft and minor necromancy. She’s also mandated to attend therapy, and allowed to be transferred to Glamour Springs jail. It’s probably less than she deserves, and she tries to be grateful as she’s escorted out of the Neverwinter central courthouse with Ma on one side of her and Deputy Carlisle on the other.

Taako is standing at the bottom of the courthouse steps, swathed in layers of winter blues, with a huge dark hat on his head. He looks cool, removed, like he’s making a public appearance. Runnel supposes he is; they’re just standing on the street. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks her when she’s close enough to hear, not even looking to Ma or Carlisle flanking her.

“Guess so.”

He pulls a card from one of the folds of his coat and holds it out to her. “Call my Assistant Dean when you get out. There’s a spot for you, if you want it.”

She takes the card; the front glitters like a gem. _Taako’s Amazing School of Magic,_ it says, in vibrant purple. When she looks up again, he’s already turned away, smiling up the steps and holding out a hand. Angus, who’s been in the room every day even when he wasn’t testifying, comes racing down to take it. “Ready for lunch?” she hears Taako say; Angus’ answer is lost to the wind as Ma and Carlisle shepherd her gently into a militia wagon.

Runnel starts therapy a few days later, in Glamour Springs. She tries Sending some of what the therapist says across the planes, even though she’s not allowed. It doesn’t matter; she never hears from Eddy again.

***

“Really??” Angus shouts, and it’s much too loud for the day after their Candlenights party, Taako’s hungover as fuck.

“Only if you stop yelling.”

“Sorry,” the kid says, volume dropping dramatically. It would be funny if Taako didn’t feel like he’d been run over by a battlewagon. There are people draped across every surface of his house, sleeping off the obscene amount of alcohol that was consumed the night before. Only Angus, Kravitz, and Bay Leaf, the most whiny of their cats, are awake. They’re sitting at the kitchen table in the wreckage of the party nibbles, each with a plate of pancakes and bacon. Kravitz and Angus have made their godsdamned sandwiches; Taako still refuses on principle, though when they’re not watching he’ll spear bacon and pancake together on his fork.

“Best to go before everyone else is awake, we’ll answer less questions,” Kravitz agrees.

Taako takes a long gulp of his mimosa; his boyfriend, the best boyfriend, helpfully refills his glass. Hair of the dog, and all that jazz. “We’ll go in our pjs then, I’m not putting real clothes on for at least six more hours.”

They do go in their pajamas—or at least, Taako and Angus do, Kravitz puts his whole Reaper getup on before scything a hole in the kitchen—and the Astral Plane feels much as Taako remembers from vacationing there. Cold, but not because of the temperature. More like still, and dry. Angus looks around wide-eyed at everything; the Sea behind them, glimmering with souls, and the imposing entrance to the Eternal Stockade in front of them, goth as fuck.

“Wow,” he manages, and reaches out. Taako takes his hand.

Kravitz smiles, still wearing his skin. “This way.” They go inside, past processing and offices and a few extremely locked-looking doors, until they reach a long hall that’s all windows on one side. “It’s a one-way mirror,” Kravitz explains. “They’re not allowed visitors, but we have to be able to keep an eye on them.”

On the other side of the glass is...a waiting room. Like every dull waiting room Taako has ever seen, put together. Like the DMV that Lup burned down on her Best Day, but with the dullness quadrupled. Milling around inside are souls, at least a dozen, just little balls of glow that flit back and forth and around each other.

“Not too crowded, is it,” Taako remarks, and Kravitz hums.

“Only rare cases end up here, and they do eventually move on.”

“So which one is him?”

Angus points, immediately, to a blueish soul in the corner. “That one.”

Kravitz blinks. “Yes, you’re right.”

They watch in silence for a while, as long as it takes Angus to see his fill. Taako leans into Kravitz’s side. He’s not sure how he feels about this, any of this; somewhere in this endless building, Sazed’s soul sits in eternal punishment. It’ll be a long time before he figures out what to feel. But Angus asked, and he couldn’t deny him a fourteenth time.

“Thanks,” Angus says finally, tearing his eyes away. 

“Of course.”

“Now can I see your office? Do Lup and Barry get offices? Can I meet the Raven Queen? Where do your scythes get made?”

Taako groans; Kravitz just laughs, and shepherds them along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it all the way here, thank you so much for reading!!! Please do go check out the other works in this challenge at theadventurebang on tumblr, and my art partner carpdraws on tumblr, and the other TAZ fics I've written that connect to this one. You can also come find me on tumblr at a-big-apple. :D


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